The Problem With Epiphanies

The problem with epiphanies
Is they wear off.
By definition
Their magic
Must dissipate.
The overwhelming delight
Of understanding
Eventually gives way
To the dull thrum of living.
And you wonder
Is it better to know
The epiphany’s fleeting ecstasy
Knowing the hollowness
Once it’s gone?
Or is it better
To live in ignorance
Of that which
Now evades you?

NaPoWriMo Struggle Session [blog]

Now that National Poetry Writing Month is over, I thought it would be cool to take a look back at what was achieved, what was learned, and what could be done better… not necessarily in that order.

So for those who don’t know, the goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days. I did not achieve that goal this year. I think I wrote 30 pieces of writing, but a few were not poems. I guess a couple could have been poems if I added more line breaks. But still, in the strictest interpretation of the rules of NaPoWriMo, I did fall short of the goal.

However, it seems pertinent to interrogate what the point of NaPoWriMo actually is. This is going to be different for different people. But to me the points are to write more, write better, and to develop a rhythm within yourself, both in the writing and in the production of the writing.

To this point, I feel that I succeeded. I definitely wrote more. And that was awesome. I wrote some utter garbage, but I also wrote some things that I am truly proud of. And I developed a new writing routine that really suits my life at this moment.

Since I decided to do the exercise publicly on WordPress, I got to meet a lot of cool people and got some really interesting feedback in the comments section. This was my favorite part of the project.

Now I feel empowered to go forward and write more stuff in public. I don’t know if I’m going to keep the same grueling schedule that NaPoWriMo demanded of me. But with my new routine and my new friends, I’m really looking forward to what happens next. As cheesy as that is.

Notes on UFOs

Notes on UFOs

Johnnie always told me UFOs are real and I alway told him I don’t care. “What does that have to do with the price of bread?” I’d say.
It’s mathematically improbable that there is no other intelligent life in the universe. And it’s entirely possible that some other civilizations have visited ours. But who fucking cares? They’re obviously not doing anything worthwhile in my life, so fuck them. They’re just tourists.
Johnnie is also a staunch atheist and he says that aliens are his god. And I think that’s really insightful. Because alien people (that is, people who believe strongly in aliens) believe that the aliens are going to save us in some way. Or that the acknowledgement of aliens in the broader culture is some sort of salvation in itself.
And now the Pentagon has released footage confirming UFOs. It’s everything your crazy uncle ever wanted in the 90s. The truth isn’t out there anymore. It’s confirmed… if you believe what the Pentagon tells you.
But what happens with that information? It’s like every other video that comes out about UFOs. You either believe it or you don’t or you don’t care. It doesn’t change anything.
And the timing of the video is suspect. Suddenly when everybody is questioning the trajectory of governance in the face of crisis, video surfaces which is built for distraction. It’s convenient. And it doesn’t have anything to do with the price of bread.

NaPoWriMo #16

Becoming Real

I bought a web domain
to have a go at being real.
I’ve been unreal
for a long time–
living in odd places–
places where people
aren’t supposed to live…
open mics
message boards

Now I live in palaces in the sun.
Now I’m finally real.
My words live in houses of the wholly realized.

Contrary to popular mythos
there is love on the internet
and it comes from knowing there’s
a home for broken sentences
and calcified syntax.

NaPoWriMo 2020 #15

I don’t know if I’ve got it in me tonight.

National Poetry Writing month
takes its toll.
30 poems in 30 days.
Content burnout is real.

I know a guy
who lives in an adobe cottage
in New Mexico,
who lives contentedly,
is madly in love,
and writes like 3 poems a day.
I don’t know how he does it.

1 poem a day for 1 month
just about cracks me open.
That’s why I’m making this
diary entry metatext.
I need a break.
I need something easy.

It’s impossible to feel the muse
all the time
because she exacts a toll
and takes more than she gives.

Better to replenish oneself periodically
with a self-indulgent diary post.
It may not be good reading,
but it saves one from total burnout.

This may as well say “lorem ipsum”

15 Minutes of Fame 7/30


Some years ago some sociopath named Andy Warhol

said that in the future everyone will have 15 minutes of fame

and people saw that and said

‘Well, this asshole that paints soup cans is super famous

so he should know’

And people started repeating it as fact

as if there were some irreproachable quality to the

soup can man

but really, everybody wanted to believe it so hard

they tried to make it true.

There are are 7 billion people in the world

If everybody got 15 minute of fame

just with the people who are alive today

it would take

199,771.7 years


So maybe ’15 minutes of fame’

is a metaphor

So how does that metaphor function?

It says that you will eventually

reap some reward

for your aspirational toils

at some point

over the course of 200,000 years

It’s a mollifying metaphor

meant to pacify discontent

at the fuckery in the world


How to comport oneself in a celebrity fashion:

buy the right things

look the right way

don’t say anything controversial unless it serves a particular PR aim

don’t indulge a radical politic

maintain an aura of perfection, regardless of what a vile beast you are.


the promise of fame

self regulates the public

and we all want it so bad

and we’re almost there

we’re so close to our fates

so close

So long as all our content

strives for a banality

which challenges nothing

and says even less

we may just get there one day