Napowrimo Day 17

Cornflower blue
checkerboard kitchen
window curtains.
"I'm not finished yet."

The ________ key without.

Rape dream while the mother is talking
on her cell phone, oblivious
of the green grass, the blue sky.

Every part of me rising upward.

I am such a dreamer
in my fabulous tax-day fashion.
Black and purple.

If you write
cute little notes
to the taxman. Say Sara
says hi.

The fog hovering.

Completely injured.
But I know the solution.

Better halved.
Locust locomotos. Whether it is
peace or sloth that sits waiting
in the ocean. Not waving.

Napowrimo Day 16

The clock on the wall is only
a memory. Things aren't where
they used to be. Things that are
no longer where they used to be
are no longer.

It is
not necessary
to be
in this much
pain.

Remembered the codeine
pills, but forgot
my oatmeal. The Valerian
tea seems to be stinking
up the entire train.

The recipe for forgetting.
Laughing at incendiary.
Setting fire.

What used to make me so nervous now
just relaxes me.

I don't think you're real.

Is this the end or the beginning.
Is this the end of the beginning.

In between the RV trailer
and the playing field. I
always forget.

Napowrimo Day 15

Today is not tax day.
I refuse single-use
vicodin vicodin vicodin
in order to quit chocolate.

Tagged laundry room door.
Rolling on the foam roller.
Waking to the phone, talking
without lifting my head. Green
pomade. Should I use it for this
or should I use it for that. Having

appropriated from the mainstream
—it does not notice what we have
evaporated from it. At 4:00 I will
eat a second lunch.

                           Later, at epiphanies
my neck will no longer hurt, when
I've gotten you off it. The fly
buzzing around me intoxicated I
cannot move, but flinch

in my stillness.

Napowrimo Day 14

When you stopped dreaming it was because
you had dreamed everything.

The ancestry password I can never remember.

If I ever think about slitting my wrists anymore,
it is just fleeting.

Back on the right path.
Needing to rest.

Instructions to keep doing more things
so that you can finally finish.

The broken appliances, on roller skates, sitting
next to her.

Trying to remember what I was thinking
by remembering where I was when I thought it.

Trying not to want what I want because
I never get what I want.

How the memory of something is both transitory
and completely tangible.

Napowrimo Day 13

Another words.

Crossing out time tables.



Cookie Monster eats vegetables now.



                                                       penalty applies



I only like them yellow.

When I get my will power back.

Pandesal.



Wait for the next cycle.

Something is rolling towards me.






Got out of that one.

Napowrimo Day 12

This blue dread. The previous
image overlaid over the present.
The dreams we do not follow.
Whether the destruction of non-
existence is more non-existence
or less.

Too textual to match. The pillow-
rain. Nothing but mugshots and a weird
sweating. The children in the back-
ground. Falling asleep until my book
falls. Simplicity's difficulty.

What I want when I'm asleep.
The difficulty of movement.
Sometimes somebody. The dreams
reddened into fog. Choosing
the untextual. Waking my
ambience, not my ambivalence. Auto-

graphic lumen, and what is about to fall
off of me, laden. Matching my bookmark
to my shirt. When yes is a no is a no
is a yes. My subject matter fading. Your
alluring agency.

Napowrimo Day 11

Liking what I didn't like before.
The train smelling like mold
in the rain. How can they just
close up a whole side like that?
Not sure if we changed tracks yet
or not. Faith in the invisible.

Dream of a really old abandoned
pickup truck. And you are fixing
something, tools
are everywhere.

Throwing food at the barking
dogs. The food is not really food.
Blown-up air balloons resembling food.

Missed a lot, listening.
Missing what overlaps.
Flashes of colorwheels.

Lacking the status to appropriate.
How end times' ending ends. Lie
to me. Fighting the matriarchal
patriarchy.

Napowrimo Day 10

"You can remember someone many times but you can forget them only once." --Tan Lin

My darkness running out.
Loving the two. Like land. Like torn
knickers. Like lintels.

Where are the waves.
The invisible hand pushing
and falling down the stairs
in the dark. The park

I could never find. A totem
for the present. Less represented
on the map than you. Disbelieving
the offer of help. Our souls
torn out of us. The pretension
of family that is not family
at all.

Trying to find what I've missed
but not finding anything. Unable
to remember what I've forgotten.

The bottom step.

Napowrimo Day 9

Destroyed my red coat.

Satisfied at what I was trying
to do, but now I have to do
it in inverse. Instead of wanting
one, now I want everything.
Found her in the un-park
unflying an unkite with her
undog. An unher. Later
after coffee, cigarettes, chocolate
we hear what they are saying
in the remix, overdubbed. Un-
transcribable agreement of opposites.

It is that sound that I want.

Moving every part of me that I
never loved. In the quiet parts
what I hear in the other distance.
The fears of youth, my favorite
disappointment. Dunes, wrapped
up in.

Napowrimo Day 8

I think maybe I lost a day. Sub-
scribing to the innermost marrow.
You know that I know that I know
that you know. I know that you know
that you know that I know. Bliss.
Stoicly breathing. Spicy tuna.
"Play"'s slideshow. For everyone

and to everyone. What I can't get
to because I've covered it up. All
the dirt comes off so easily, just
like in the dream. Painting over
graffiti. The unicorn outside my
window. Overdoing it for a future
underdoing it. Anuloma Viloma,
Anuloma Viloma, Anuloma Viloma,
obsessively.

Napowrimo Day 7

The formal command.
Having run out of ink.
Finally reading something
I don't understand that I
understand. 8 ways to share
mixtapes. Having dyed my hair
dark, I wonder if I should dye
it darker. Cringy memories, how
do I get out of here. Seven hands
and you are on your own. Having
processed everything into perfection.
The vision I once had of the language I
couldn't read, learning it now.
Everyone has to be so cool and
everything is illegal.

Napowrimo Day 6

"Of things I'd rather keep
in silence I must sing"
(The Countess of Dia).

The old man my mentor
pointing out the Hershey's
Syrup in the bookshelf.
There is no fence.
The sink is clean.
My avatar is in a bikini.
All the complaints come to naught.
The fish swims away.

Lemon candy, or that which
we'd rather not come to,
but take when offered.

Download everything and then ignore it.
Trying to destroy my SD card.
Walking away and not towards.
Venus Lock.
Having come to our opposite edges,
duplicity is seen to be truth.

Napowrimo Day 5

At least I'm backwards
but I don't have white sunglasses
and am not sitting alone.
Friends talking to each other
across the aisle.

The angel's progress.

Fantasizing about practicing
my Sanskrit script. Using
my nasal spray instead. Sleeping
instead. Listening to music
instead. But this is why
I never get sick any more.

All my messages meant for machines.

I am only worthy of getting what I want
if I can perform magic.

Napowrimo Day 4

The terror of time in all
the dreams I remember. How
seeing something is true frees you
from that thing. Waiting to see what will
happen with only a slight expectation.
The train's gravity.

Seems like its the half way point
but its really the two-thirds of the way point.
Forwarding to the song I like while
my music is on random. If a pulsing,
surrounding, repeating sound
could be translated into text. Curtains.
The ridiculousness of that one thing.
And what about the fade.

The point where the train
brakes hard tricking you into
thinking you are almost there. If the end
to sweetness would allow it to continue
in such a way that we'd not have the sweetness
in our hearts scaring us so much. The
simultaneity of hurt feelings.

Not what I want to talk about.

Napowrimo Day 3

Limitless spellbound redemption.
In the doorless car.
Having been flapped on the head
with a pigeon wing. Not what
is about to be carried away so much
as what must I get out of the way of.
For. From. How scarcity makes you hungry.
How sparcity makes you horny.
Because I kind of knew this before.
I'm not sure the present circumstances
are the exact cause. Is life an always
looking for something new I don't know
about? Everything falling towards me
because of the way it is placed.

Napowrimo Day 2

Yesterday's unknown.
Yesterday's angel
lost in the rocks
at the sea, but also
                           to always
be found there. Time is
what was. I don't know
what is.

                          That which
is hidden and that
which knows. Vs. That
which is that which
one would rather not be.
But it is that that is
in the what is. And so is
is in the acceptance of
the that, that one would
rather not be, working with
it, that it can become
that which one wishes. Bi-

consonantal
conjuncts.

Napowrimo Day 1

"You need to direct me."
Pictures of Amy and Oakland Bart.
When the water frightens me
because of all the disorder
and walking on land barefoot.
The unknown underneath
me. Beach Poem #1.

I also have Plato. Laura
is taking off her clothes.
She's coming over.
I felt like I ate all the bread
but I only ate some of the bread.
There is sand everywhere
and the wind is freezing.
Why do people like this?

Here comes Yosefa.
She is bundled up she looks cold.
The flirty seagull. I call him a hottie,
he flies away just as the picture
is about to be shot. Commitment phobic.
I think my phone is on roaming.
Beach Poem #1 is probably the only
Beach Poem there is going to be.
"Hey California was settled before the Seventies."
Solitary acts in the presence of a group.

At the beginning of primary series this morning, maybe because there were a lot of new people, but it was totally chaotic, from the beginning no one was waiting for teacher to tell us to jump up or whatever, they were all just doing it on there own, and it seemed not the time for doing it on your own, and like I wondered if teacher felt like he'd lost control or was losing control of the class, but of course he just went with it and said you are your own teacher, awesome. Then I started thinking how awesome chaos is, and accepting it and going with the flow is one of those scary zen things that you get to face in yoga. Scary only second to Bhuja Pindasana, don't know why that one scares me more than handstand right now.

But thinking about chaos and losing control and allowing it and seeing where it takes you, contrasted with the extreme discipline of otherwise, and how another teacher once said never get ahead of the yogi next to you and stay in sync, which is sweet and communal, and takes you out of ego, but also can be somewhat militaristic and overly disciplined. Think maybe in the beginning when you are building up prana energy and so forth it is better to have the discipline way or it will just get scattered, but after a certain while, once you do have a lot of prana/kundalini energy, I think that can be repressive and too much of a constraint, next level is CHAOS! And how awesome to just open that energy up into the unknown, that is where the creative takes place.

DeMarco kind of looks like the melting face nazi in raiders of the lost ark, or maybe I just want to see it...

Satya

I've never much understood what Keats meant by Truth or what truth means in a religious context, but just came across something describing Satya, which states that Truth is a form of constancy and unchangeability, and I understand that better. Merely avoiding lies seems annoying and pointless, everyone lies randomly - it doesn't seem to be a great spiritual thing to not do that, like white lies or lies from not thinking clearly. But to be constant in a larger way does seem so. If you love something or someone, then to always love it/them, that sort of mental stability, that kind of "decision," is great and spiritual it seems, and yes one of the 8 limbs...

Tried to go to this, but it was so packed I left shortly. Long walk for not much!

He is going to be speaking at the Occupy Move-in Day Rally Saturday (someone gave me a flyer) - maybe I will go. Haven't been to a single Occupy thing yet, what kind of intellectual am I?!

I want to get his book Debt, but $32.
Standing near the Surrealism wall, I also want Women in Dada: essays on sex, gender, and identity, and In the Shadow of its Shadow: Surrealist Writings on the Cinema. Funny how I prefer reading books about Surrealism to reading Surrealist works themselves, with a few exceptions...

Did a two-hour arm balancing workshop this weekend and neither my arms nor my wrists are sore in the least. Boo. But my hips are killling me and I have a gigantic black bruise on my right hip from "bouncing" from koundinyasana to eka pada koundinyasana I, my new trick kind of. Or what ashtangayoga.info calls kaundinyasana a to kaundinyasnan b.



then a fun little bounce to:



Sort of ouch.







So I learned that, and I learned to get one foot off the wall in my pincha mayurasana. Which I just recently am able at all to get both feet on the wall for.

I cannot do the jump throughs or backs still forever.

But did realize, in Bhuja Pidasana that I can lift my feet off the ground, by just lifting my feet off the ground. Not ready to put the head forward though, but wanted to try it in primary series this morning but could not go because I could not sleep last night, because I acted in my first Poets Theater tonight. Nerve wracking, but once I was up there, it was much much less nerve wracking than giving a poetry reading because all the people up there with you, your energy is diverted into them or something...

Went to acupuncture before-hand, and she gave me some "calming pills" Thank You. And then I had rum in my coke, and then we did tequila shots so even though I flubbed a line, I still felt calm about it and it didn't lead to a catastrophe of flubbings.

Three One-line Friend Facebook updates in a row all together

I wish it were otherwise


you'll find my truth in the relentless mid.sentence, listen close . . .



my former residence is essentially on rent strike. sad i missed the party.

Have been, I think, meditating too much, an hour a day, sometimes almost two hours. Think sometimes too much is too much, it brings up darknesses, buried emotional stuff from long ago I didn't know was still in me. But realized today as I bought this Krishnamurti book, that, unlike P. Jois' view of yoga, you really can't or shouldn't do meditation without theory, remembering these ideas - say, like all problems come about because of the conception of time. So realizing that in my little miseries, I can come out of it. And what mediation does really is increase your energy, life force, kundalini, but how do you use it? If you let it, it will attach itself to the dark stuff swirling around in you, but if you use that extra energy - using your thoughts in these ways - then I don't think necessarily the dark stuff will come up.

This has happened to me so much in my life that I thought it was a part of meditation, and maybe it is. But I never quite know what to do with it and I wonder if just diverting the energy away is the answer, or is that repressing? I do remember thich nhat hanh, i believe, in his book on anger, saying giving energy to anger as it rises only makes it worse, and you should transform it. So I think he is right because he doesn't seem repressed or like he is harboring unresolved issues. The issues are there to see for a moment and then dissolve.

Chardonnay Enlightenment!

December 2011

PROACTIV $49.90
BART $180
EATING OUT $142.60

HEALTH COSTS - ACUPUNCTURE/HERBS $84
DENTIST $174.34
PRESECRIPTIONS $130.59

WALGREENS-$105.81

GROCERIES=$196.30:

PUBLISHING COSTS $135.08

MUSIC/BOOKS/CLOTHES:$250.50 (OOPS)

ATM WD:$160

BILL PAYMENTS: $481.54

RENT: $900

$2,990.66 spent, NOT INCLUDING AIR TRAVEL RELATED, or CHRISTMAS PRESENTS (december only)

TAKE-HOME PAY $2,122.56

$868.10 IN THE RED

Would be almost OK if I bought NO music/books/clothes, quit all publishing endeavors, and ignored my health entirely.

Will try again next month... Feel like I'm always making the biggest mistake eating out/shopping at Bi-rite, but doesn't appear to be the big issue...

Also did not include yoga which I only pay for every four months but is $105 a month...

Just cut my own bangs, so don't need a haircut. But I do need shampoo.

2012

Thinking through a very complicated math problem during corpse pose tonight, my first night back at Asta after over a week. And after corpse pose, Rene talks to us, and brings up math, synchronously. As a parallel to ask us why we are doing yoga, what is it for... and always it is always for spirituality for me. Not necessarily mastering the asanas. Have been wondering though, as I am starting to get pincha mayarasana, what is a parallel in real life to gaining that pose, which is strength based almost entirely (also fear issues), and it finally occurred to me that "strength" in real life would be self-confidence. So that plus more extroversion are my new years resolutions.

I think an alternative to black eyed peas on New Years Day might be red velvet cake flavored ice cream?

Also as I am reading the Collected Lectures of Jack Spicer, I want to start writing a poem a night, dictation style. A series called Dictation? Also to combine my long time desire to write a project of project-less poems (ever since reading Poetry is not a Project).

Also doing another budget to see how far off I am. Will do another at end of January since I lowered 401K contribution and am no longer getting a commuter check so will have a little more cash flow... Budget Blog Post coming soon.

The math problem I was trying to do was, as someone once said, for every day you are off of yoga, you have to do yoga twice that amount to get back your practice. So I had my last SF yoga class of 2011 Thursday the 23rd, then I took a Power Yoga class in Austin on Tuesday, then a Baptiste class in Ft. Worth on Friday, then tonight's class which is Sunday. So that is four days off, one day on, two days off, one day on, one day off, and then I am back. So, 4 days means I need 8, then I took one day, so I'm at 7, then two days off, so I'mm at 11, then one day on, so I'm at 10, then one day off again, and I am at 12, then today I'm back, so won't be back to normal until January 12. Although I'm not doing 12 days in a row...

The Texas yoga was OK, as far as exercise goes, but there was no chanting, no meditation, no pranayama, no bandhas. Kind of Methodist yoga... I think they all already have a religion so they ignore that part? Or maybe I just picked the wrong studios. The other Really Weird Texas Yoga Moment, was this girl was wearing a bandolier with bullets on it, though she took it off before class started, and placed it in one of the cubbyholes, which was right by where I was, and I stared and stared, are those bullets!? Namaste! The light in me salutes the lightning in you.

Angels / bad signs / near misses / hit and runs

Someone asked me about my angel chapbook at the poetry reading, and then on the ride home, I'm listening to my IPOD alphabetical by song, and I get to the series of Angel songs, 12 total. Although I first counted 11 and that felt mystical. Two of the McLachlan ones are identical, so maybe 11.

Angel-Belly
Angel-Eurythmics
Four different versions of Sarah McLachlan's Angel
Angel Bell - Cranes
Angel, Angel, Down we go Together- Morrissey
Angelene - P.J. Harvey
Angeles - Enya
Angeline-Faithless
Angel's Weep-Mythos

Then I made Dana Teen Lomax cry, talking about her father's death, but I don't think it was in a bad way, but it is recent.

Then walking home, right at my intersection, I saw a very bad car crash, the car was upside down, hit and run, but I heard they caught the guy.

The guy who'd been in the upside down car, was fine sitting on the sidewalk, someone was telling him tomorrow your ankle is going to hurt a lot you have a lot of adrenaline right now.

There were all these boxes all over the place, like he'd been moving, in the process.

There is not much you can do about bad signs, but just know it is coming.

Cool! I'm a revolutionary!

Devoting one’s life to an activity with little chance of bringing any sort of significant cash reward is a revolutionary act within the virulent capitalism we inhabit.

Completely harmless — no threat — and so completely allowed. But my power, I think, comes from the fact of not buying in to the competition, the market place, somehow creating peace and art in a sphere outside the sphere of power is itself a power. I may not be noticed much, but I am outside their power structure, which may make them slightly nervous, but not so much since I am broke so what can I do (until I start Occupying some street or other). Also thinking being in a sphere outside the power-marketplace sphere, in my space they cannot hurt me. The safety of not playing the game.

Eleven Eleven Reading on 11/11/11 with 11 poets.

Really liked Eric Selland, but he is very academic type, a little unconscious of anything outside of that, and went way over his time limit. He asked rather late, am I over my time? And a woman in the audience said Yes! But he went on like he didn't hear her, and then Hugh finally got up and went over towards the end of the aisle and started clapping at the end of the next poem, so everyone else clapped and the poor guy realized he was done.

I liked what he was reading a lot. Lots of translations of Japanese haiku, which he says originally was one line, it was only through English translation that they became 3 lines, to fit with the english language. He wrote in the kindof abstract poetic style I love. "Self as grammatical formality" "To confront interpretation" a lot of lines with that device - "To..." "To..." is that called something? "The body, geology of the unimagined" (not sure if I'm remembering that one right). I'm not sure if that is him or the Japanese poets originally but I'm going to look for his books...

Also liked Rusty Morrison, she is always deep, mostly talking about death. I was thinking during her reading how there is so much pain in everyone, in all of us, and how at the same time, we make this stuff, this poetry. What are we doing? The life force attempts itself. Loved seeing Jessica Wickens again, who I read with a while back, does Twitter poems. She has a book too I need to find.

Regretted not making the Black Surrealism thing at Poetry Center at the same time, and MISSING Will Alexander! How could I? But got my cool African-american poetry fix through Amaud Jamaul Johnson, who I'd not heard of and want to look up his books now. He read in a very slow paced way, which made me feel spiritual, sat up straighter, aligned my bandhas. Felt focused. "It's all pie-chart & phylum."

The rest of the people were the prose writers so I really have nothing to say but they were funny.

Have been wondering the place for yogis in the Occupy movement. Haven't heard any teachers mention anything in regards to it until Marie today says The Silent Revolution begins, or something to that effect, which is only a reference by inference. Wondering if there are many churches or spiritual group directly involved? Haven't heard of it but I am really an outsider to it. Maybe not this:

http://www.facebook.com/occupychurch

I'm not part of it mostly because of no time. Work + Commutes=12 hours every day. Also yoga will always take precedence to a march, usually even to a poetry reading, or socializing. I can't go without, so really there is really no time. And I think also perhaps a slight aversion to going, although I agree with everything in spirit, don't think I actually want to be there in the midst of all those people, rubber bullets, and tear gas. I will just be meditating over here.

Also even though it is mostly non-violent on the activist's parts, it seems not quite; received a pamplet at the poetry reading last night, and there seems to be a discussion about whether non-violence or violence is the way to go. Yikes. From that I understand my aversion. How to Occupy while honoring ahimsa. An essay on ahimsa in activism would be very interesting to read.

Yoga teacher, Rene, said you should be able to balance in Tree pose or Utthita Hasta Padangustasana, even during an earthquake! I never can balance. I used to be so good when we would do everything all in a row, my ankles were so strong. Tree, then Utthita, then dancers pose, then Ardha Baddha, then warrior 3. Whew! I should try and do that sequence on my own some time, 5 breaths each.

Did Garbha Pindasana for the first time in full lotus, but now with the arms through the legs. It is kind of easier. My hips are finally starting to open up, but only on Sundays. Craving more Primary Series'. ironically, because we do the second/third series mixed all together Rocket series usually, when we do the primary series, I feel like this is so wacky and wild, but it is the most traditional series there is.

Rene said "notice the fluctuations of the mind" and I felt so happy because that is SO Patanjali. And how breathing calms the mind, and to notice how it does, and something about the way we control what our body does, so we can control what our mind does. And finally feeling free of my emotional problems of last week. But it will probably start all over again tomorrow.

Probably the best poetry reading I've given to date, I mean the one I felt the calmest, and most serene, was the one at Loretta Clodfelter's house in Oakland. sitting on the floor, barefoot, wine glass bedside me. But I'd had a major acupuncture for nerves treatment a day or so earlier, for anxiety. Need to remember to do that again. I though my recent readings were just horrible. But I didn't do acupuncture beforehand.

Read Derrida all weekend, but it wasn't that great. This essay all on Heidegger's Hand, which really seems to me a silly subject. But it is Derrida so it is kind of cool. There was a lot of German so I may not have understood it all. Also a lot of Derrida, so I many not have understood it all.

Taking this Chinese herb for my congestion problems plus fatigue, and woke up at 7am this morning HYPER, didn't know what to do that was quiet and wouldn't wake my roommate, so I rearranged my to read pile, I made it worse seemingly (much longer), but instead of having all these different categories of to read books,(different small piles) I put them all in a linear pile (very big), and the plan is to only ever read one book at a time. I think I will feel less frazzled. This thing leftover from grad school, where I want to read every book in its entirety, but maybe I don't have to, if I'm not feeling it, and fell like I want to switch to something else, maybe I just will put it in the bookshelf, and never read from it again. Until such time that I am dying for it.

John Taggart and C.S. Giscombe

Grooving out on the bus reading this poem from New World Journal that David Highsmith let us take, much more so than I was feeling about him in the reading, I think it might be his masculinst reading style that makes me feel incapable of paying an ounce of attention to him. But the poetry is actually nice with this repetitive lyricism thing.

From "That This May Be":

"As if no one no one were seated beside you no one beside you as if you were alone yourself completely alone in a room a room without Ezekiel as if you were completely alone in a room in a finite room as if no one were seated beside you when a tongue when a tongue feeds a train when a violet tongue feeds a violet train into a violet room when a tongue feeds a train into a room made all violet in waves of a wide wave on wide wave of a as in father mist of a thousand waves over you ...."


He talked so much in his reading it felt almost more like a lecture which was nice, albeit also masculinist stance-ish. He mentioned Robert Duncan and Oppen as two of his major influences, and then later on after reading a poem with the line "walls do not fall" he started to talk about a third influence, and I knew, just knew, it was H.D. But then he said it was Zukofsky. Oh, just Zukofsky. I felt SO disappointed in him.

Then he spoke of a 70 page poem that couldn't make it into Is Music, so it went into There are Birds, called "Unveiling/Marianne Moore." I frowned.

C.S. Gisocombe, I can't remember as much because he didn't upset me. I liked how he had a project about trains. Trains as sexual and trains as racial. Want to read more of him.

Love a 2 hour beginning yoga class where we do handstands, but I didn't get home in time to make it to the grocery store. Had three fails, with random stuff in the pantry. The German potato pancakes with applesauce seemed great until I realized I followed the directions wrong, mixed the egg with the package and then added water, should have mixed the egg and water together first, then put the package in, totally not mixing and disgusting so I threw it out and made a bowl of baked beans, which seemed great with my twist off french wine, until I realized it tasted wierd and looked at the can and it expired over 6 months ago. Third try spiral noodles with butter, and wine. Hard night except have discovered James Blake on Spotify and Love Him. It's like ambient experimental R&B? Totally headphones in bed kind of music.




My scoliosis spot is screaming and my rotator cuff is acting up again, and my left knee is hurting. Maybe its the rain. I feel I should stay in bed for a week but I have to work a 6 day work week.

The difference between exhaustion and fatigue. One is kind of funny, the other, utter despair. I want the funny kind where its alright because it is temporary.

Destroyed myself this weekend trying to do vinyasas in half lotus - I kind of did it, but now. Right arm is spazzing and left knee ham string, probably not related to that actually, but also doing yoga utterly fatigued. Slept 11 hours Friday, couldn't believe I slept so much, so set my alarm to get up at 9 on Sunday (more than 3 hours later than my usual time) and I was sound asleep. Think I'm getting CFS. And I have to work a 6 day work week this week, and I have no sick or personal time left.

I have all these texts just waiting for me to put them together, and so in a month, with only rewriting and obsessing over forms, I have a second full-length manuscript ready, sent it out to an open reading submissions period, but even if that doesn't pan out just cool having it and can send out to other places... So now I'm working on my third manuscript.

Blogs

Reading blogs again, having figured out Google reader, and wow, I feel so satisfied reading words. That become paragraphs, how odd!

I want to learn the history of my street.

There is a war on teachers?

I love this project of Michelle Detorie's.

Love reading these on facebook, had no idea they came with pictures!

Not going to yoga, is somehow relaxing, I'm "being" tonight more than doing. Ironically.

Incisor teeth

Re: Amy Winehouse. We need good drugs, and we need them to not kill us. Don't we have scientists?

I asked God for an epiphany about my life while I was lying in the dentists chair, and all I got was Life is suffering and misery, try to stay stoned as much as possible.

Nitrous breathing meditation: around breath 12 I started to feel really good, around breath 30, really horny.

I'm not going to have any juice in the morning, I am drinking it all right now, and having a little fear of no juice in the morning thing going on.

Told my boss I couldn't work overtime on Saturday because I am being interviewed for a radio program, and she didn't respond and I realized she thinks its a job interview!

Thinking of getting back into mudras.

Is it because of twitter that I actually think in snippets now?

After the procedure, they asked me to rinse, and I spit, and I spit out a screw, a very small screw, and I asked is that a screw, and the dental assistant looked at it and said yes but I think its from the sink.

And I think now, it feels sort of deja vu, like maybe I've spit out a screw before, but I can't remember, and why am I spitting out screws, and second of all, why are there screws in my mouth at all!

I know I'm exhausted this week because I haven't been able to move my kundalini at all. But a few weeks ago (maybe I was ovulating) I was splitting it in two, not splitting apart, but splitting like branching off, growing. I guess that is good, I think eventually my whole body would just be kundalini fire, or could be, but not sure I'll ever have that energy.

Also wanting to get back into sahaj marg, i need a cleaning very bad. I don't know any of those people anymore though.

For me that split second that changes everything, lasts so long.

And finally, guitar music, with the lead singer singing "C'Mon" over and over again, is just not proper dentist office music, is it?

ADVENTURE STORY

I called in sick, I am sick. Because it is Friday and I leave my cell phone charger at work during the week, to play Pandora all day, I now have no cell phone charger all weekend. so clearly I have to buy one. I would think that I need to. But I feel awful. So, adamantly refusing to go downtown where it would be pretty easy to find I think, I wander through Mission, dizzily. First I went into Community Thrift, got a great yoghurt maker there once. I don't find any that fit, but am trying them all in this crate located under the regular phones. Then this guy brings this small tv over and asks me do I think it is black & white, or color? I don't have any idea, I say. I have no idea. He wanders off, a little later he comes back, do you want to watch a black & white movie with me? I do my Tenderloin-learned I cannot hear anything you say and have no consciousness that you are even speaking to me thing. He wanders off.

Then I walk down thinking to try the T-Mobile store -- why, in a neighborhood that refuses to let in american apparel and apparently starbucks, and even peets, is there every single cell phone company in existence? And why is there a Chase? Is there any Mission Community Bank or Credit Union?

Although I am the only customer in the store, the T-Mobile people don't help me, seemingly not noticing me, wrapped up in their own conversation, and it looks like their chargers are for their phones, as far as I can tell, so I wander out.

Then I think, Mission street. I go down and try the Goodwill. Taking a number 8 for my bags, and remembering to slip my cell phone in my pocket, I try all their cell phone chargers, but none of them work. I almost buy a wall clock that looks like a disco ball. 99 cents. This whole time I am dizzy, slightly naseous, and pretty sure I am going to faint at any minute.

Then I go over to the dollar store, they may have elctronic something. They have a phone section, but only old school phone type things.

Then I'm walking along Mission street, thinking to give up and go home, and I see actually there are a lot of stores on Mission street that have the word Electronics on the outside. I go in one but he says no, we don't have those. There is mostly DVDs. Then I see a pawn shop, maybe, who knows. They don't, but the guy is magically informative, this guy has answers. What a relief. He says go down to Giant Value, and there is a guy with a table outside, he sells phone chargers. I go three blocks down to Giant Value, and there he is. I ask, doubtfully, do you have cell phone chargers? It all looks like car phone chargers. Yes, he does. I show him my phone, it is the kind it looks all usb-like, he says no problem. He takes one out of the box, plugs it in, plugs it into my phone, and magical red lights pop up. Yay! Then, oh, how much? He probably does not take credit and I am wary of how much cash I have on me. He says $10. I look and don't think I have enough, but then find a hidden $5, which means I have exactly $10. Magical Story! All True.

The awful, new commute, to Pleasanton, for my job (50 minutes each way) is exhausting, but great for getting some reading done, and, I've been writing a poem every day between Castro Valley, and West Dublin, perfect with the rolling hills, and 9 minutes without a stop. So was websearching to find any history of the area, for a title, and came up this, it is a census designated area, being, not an actual town, and the citizens, actually voted against it becoming one, considered "unincorporated" and I thought, oh cool, I'll name it Unincorporated, or Unincorporated Community, but then I just realized Craig Santos Perez, totally beat me to it, and how much more hip, his Guam, vs. my um, Castro Valley? Nerd. So now I don't know what to call it, still.

Like how film directors, but themselves in one shot of the movie, I put the words to my secret texts in my poems. Like a secret hint, otherwise un-alluded to.

Feel annoyed with too many days in a row at yoga, and everyone who is beautiful and perfect, and have these seemingly beautiful social lives partying out with each other all the time. I'm now craving people with defects, so back to the poets I go. No yoga today, just writing. Want to feel unhealthy actually, cookies and coffee all day long. Bad posture in the darkest (very dark) corner of the cafe.

Reading Agamben's Profanations, after Laura Woltag's recommendation:

"Linguistically visible"

"Every woman has her Juno."

"Every true celebration — an abolition of time."

"There is no thing that with a twist of the imagination cannot be something else." WCW, Kora in Hell



Printing my Dusie chaps finally; Have printed 14 copies, need to do 100-150... it is legal sized and they keep falling off the printer because they are too long and I lost the printer extension piece.

two separate distinct naps today.

Did my taxes, pretty sure the lady made a Blatant Error; I'm going to have to look it up, pretty sure she was incompetent, or lazy. Why don't I just do them myself!!

Feel destroyed all weekend, in a no more ardha baddha stuff kind of way, with a limp. I kind of like because it means I did something, but don't like it so much because I can't do too much more at the moment...

Listening to Catching up with Depeche Mode on vinyl and drinking a Racer 5.

My favorite Asta class right now is Fridays 6:30-8:00, never a lot of people and really really intense. Had the heart pounding through the entire body reverberating thing, which I haven't felt in a while...I got to the area early tonight so I went into Four Barrel Coffee, had a coffee, read Baudrillard, "Why Hasn't Everything Already Disappeared?" and wrote deep stuff about duality and the real in a notebook. So went to yoga kind of caffeinated. Thought I'd be falling over left and right because of it, but only did in utthita pada hastasana, which was kind of falling over for fun... but the standing split series I was on it, for some reason, totally focused.

Have been doing 20 minutes of yoga everyday at lunch in the exercise room at the new work site, no one is ever in there, and Wednesday I think it was I did marichyasana c with the bind for the first time, that is a weird awkward feeling, could only do the left though. now I can't do it so I don't know why I could then. The pose is teasing me. But think 20 minutes a day in addition to my nighttime yoga practice is really improving things?

In the middle of printing or about to print 3 different chapbooks. Need to just order mass quantities of paper online so I don't have to carry it all, but do want to go to Kelly's paper tomorrow to get peach legal sized cover stock, also cuz I really need to see it. The text papers and white cover stocks I think I can just order.

Our bathroom window just fell out, onto the porch, fell out...broken everywhere, and now cold in there.

I kind of think that everyone that works at Bi-Rite is "good people." I don't even feel offended when they double charge me.

Reading also E. Tracy Grinnell's "Leucadia" and I wrote down "landscape as voice," not sure if truly applicable to the book or not but I like the possibility.

Everytime I go into the Big room, start thinking, I start crying. Maybe its the SuperMoon.

Sort of freaks me out that I had psychic yoga dreams the whole weekend Larry died.

Dream 1: I'm coming to class and another teacher of mine, not Larry, is leaving the earlier class, but he is exhausted laying out on this old red couch completely wiped out.

Dream 2: I'm at yoga to the people, and I'm randomly out of nowhere doing handstands in the middle of the room, over and over I do it, just floating there in mid-air.

And finally an epiphany; the way yoga is supposed to mean union, or to yoke together... I've always felt these disparities between my yoga life and my poetry life, like the body vs the mind and they are fighting each other. But I realized when one of my teachers called me out (in front of everyone!) to name the sanskrit of the pose we were doing, and I didn't know because it is the hardest one to know, triang mukhaikapada paschimottanasana, and felt sad I failed my teacher, but its ok, because now it really fired me up to learn all the sankrit names now, I know that one, and then this weekend I spent several hours learning the opening chant to patanjali and I know it now. Intellectual side of yoga! And funny, went to a poetry reading and two of my poetry friends are apparently studying sankrit, just because they love dead languages I guess, and i realized that is the fulcrum that unites my two worlds! I think a truth is there is no duality, really, but it is yoga that strips away the masks and boundaries that cover that truth. If we think there are disparities it is only because we haven't looked deeply enough.

OM
vande gurunam caranaravinde
sandarsita svatmasukhava bodhe
nishreyase jangalikayamane
samsara halahala mohasantyai

abahu purusakaram
sankhacakrasi dharinam
sahasra sirasam svetam
pranamami patanjalim
OM

Reading on Buddha's teaching on co-arising.

This weekend I'm doing proofreading, working on a project called Autobiography (not mine), actually it is two projects, parallels of each other. Also need to get my Dusie chap done. It's so still in process, takes forever!

Counted all my writing projects, and there are 9 chapbooks and 7 book books.

I'm saying project, not intuitions or simply poems a la Lasky, because, I realized, they are not really poems. Its a hybrid form that you just wouldn't call poems in the same way that Lasky writes individual poems. I don't know what the word is but writing project seems to cover it.

I don't have any music in my head right now, but because of the stupid easy listening station we listen to at work, I had a dream I was at a 1970's-esque Rod Stewart concert.

Period. So I may only go to yoga to the people this weekend, because they don't do inversions, although Amma said we shouldn't at all for the first three days. But I know, I think that would wreck my body.

Dreamt Jared Hayes was in a rock band, and I'd just bought his CD to cheer up my mom, but it was a little too rock n roll for me. My mom's husband had just died, who is dead in real life, and I was like didn't he already die once before? Also the poodle died. Lots of sadness and clutter everywhere.

Been sick off and on for 6 weeks or so, ever since that stupid never again flu shot. But its ok, I'm processing. Stuff. I have a thing I'm thinking about that would solve all my problems, almost all, but I would have to make some concessions.

Very little yoga practice this week; some home practice, but too much phlegm, which is entirely disconcerting when upside down. Did use the neti pot maybe 83 times this week. There is a lot, a lot of my phelgm floating through the pipes at the credit union.

Also, including the day job, worked 13 hours on Wednesday and 12 hours on Thursday. $$$$

So tonight I am staring at the ceiling and watching Vertigo. I've kind of been watching it for 5-7 days. Searching for a youtube of either the psychedelic dream sequence scene, or when she says something like, only one can wander, two together are always going somewhere.

Searching for vintage clothes fashion blogs. Dreaming of money.

Disturbed by the birds and the fish, how is no one mentioning BP?

Enjoying the new focus on the primary series at Asta lately. Realizing how focusing the series is, compared with the Rocket series, which seems to be more about increasing kundalini, firing you up. But too much Rocket leaves you with too much energy just going everywhere. Nice to be able to come back to the primary in order to put all that energy into a specific direction. Was having the whole I have 18 writing projects at once thing, but that doesn't lead anywhere. Picking one to focus on at a time. Also, reading, I currently have 27 books checked out of the library. So I made a reading plan too.

All quoted words from the forthcoming The Incompossible from Black Radish books

“Opinions”
“All tropes are clouds.”
“it”
“it”
“the general?”
“pre-existence”
“among.”
“if.”
“Being”
“He wouldn’t actually drive the saucer.”
“without.”
“pretend”
“Nightmare-Heaven.”
“See, she’s a witch.”
“natural”
“left”
“two.”
“Apprehend”
“Temporary Ravine”
“I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“beginning.”
“I know she’s lying.”
"You must change the form of your practice."

Thinking about how if the life force comes from mulabhanda, and when on our periods, our energy is completely churning away in that area, then maybe it is not a curse at all, but makes us luckier? So I've been trying to turn my cramp pain into kundalini bliss all day. It kind of works if I concentrate really, really hard. But I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up. Definitely need a nap. Also, finally agree not to do inversions, because my period has been lasting 7 days instead of 5 lately, and ew. I guess they're right about that.

Reading the third translation of Patanjali that I've read. The first one was translated by Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood, one of my teachers was reading it so I read it, the second one was translated by Chip Hartranft, I don't think I liked this one because I thought it was "too easy" and "armchair enlightenment." (This is what I said on goodreads.)So now I am reading Sri S. Satchidananda's translation. This is the one, the cover I see most people have if I see people with a Patanjali. I also checked out the Mircea Eliade book on Patanjali, a more historical study.

Had the thought in the middle of a rather intense yoga class, or regular yoga class, but I was doing it intensely, that Ashtanga is a form of shamanism. Like we are out in the desert on a vision quest, haven't slept for 36 hours, are tripping on some weird-ass drug, and there is some nut there trying to lead us through it. Funny, people who are drawn to meditation and yoga because of the "relaxation" thing, they don't know, and I think I was one of them initially, that it has to take you through hell first. It is not ease, confronting the self. And even if you don't think that is what you are doing, it tricks it out of you, and it becomes what you are doing. The people who can't handle it are the ones that drop out, or go sporadically. I don't know that I am actually confronting the self, I think I am starting to, and in the past the confronting the self thing made me evasive within my own practice. I am still evasive but becoming more aware of what I am doing, and so evading less, I think.

When I'm feeling "unglamorous" sweater totally lopsided and no possibility to ever right it, scoliosis apparent, like I'm the hunchback of notre dame, right foot dragging behind me, I remember I'm a poet, I'm supposed to be fucked up, and I feel better.

Bought a book from a former classmate at new college on the $1 rack outside modern times. Should I tell him or not??? I'd read it from the library so I'm actually happy I actually own it now. also bought some 70's paperback for the cover. (Something about her wicked wicked ways) Thinking of my upcycling next and last dusie chap. Not sure if it will match the project I'm thinking of though.

Tea is cheaper than coffee, generally nowadays. Poets are all going to become tea drinkers. Coffee is for yuppies.

Confused about kundalini vs chi. Are they working at cross purposes? I'm not sure but I think kundalini coming up from the sex, at least in women, is inner inner even more inside than inside, whereas chi moments in acupuncture, seem to be entirely on the surface of the skin, or even hovering slightly outside, like an aura. So maybe they are complementary. Though I realize one comes from China and one from India...?

Thank you Veterans for giving me a day off.

I realized that I'm so uninterested in this construct continually dug up by other people in which "lyric" is split off and set up against "experiment." I can't even be bothered to protest it, for protest would just give it credence, in a way. I am interested in the signature and the mouth and throat. I am interested in how ear and throat receive language.

--Erin Moure

Every time I walk down Oakwood street I have a beautiful moment. Every single time.

Had a very writerly day. After walking around for an hour in the rain with my skirt inside out, I came home and mostly haven't left since (except for a stroll on Oakwood). Finished making the layout for Jill Stengal's new chap "and i would open", that I am doing. Settled on a cover design and a color. Then I got the proof for my Book-Book The Incompossible. So I printed the whole thing out to reread, read it, and then sent off my comments and then now I am writing a blog entry. Drank two glasses of white zinfandel but strawberry flavored that my coworker gave me. I also spent some time "categorizing."

I have not read every single poem Poetry Foundation has on its website, but maybe 60%? Well actually, not that I look, they have over 9000 poems, so probably not even 10%! Anyway, here are two good ones.



Alice Notley

Spicer

This weather, first cold day, makes me feel spiritual and pure. Like I want to only drink water and eat very little. But it might be the medicine.

Anyone who couldn't afford (or didn't want to afford) my arrow as aarow chapbook A Musics, can read an excerpt at Little Red Leaves. A slightly different, earlier version is on the LRL webzine.

My yoga practice is becoming terrifying, but that is the only place left to go if I don't want to stagnate.

Learned about the Dum Dum Girls at the hairdresser.



Getting over a silly little illness, trying to figure out correct dosages.

Reading Kevin Killian, Leland Hickman, Nietzsche, Olson, Vendler on Dickinson, The Power of Now, Zibechi and Brian Teare.

Went to a few Litquake readings. Sweated. Matt Hart freaked me out. Really loud, like a male Dorthea Lasky. Thinking about how Bay Area poets maybe need to use emotion as part of our poetics a little more. We are so repressed and embarrassed. Maybe we are too "cool."

Watched Bluebeard. I think she maybe changed the ending.

Maybe giving up netflix and greencine, in favor of Faye's. Great deals, and a block away. They have a thing called Pick 12, that has a theme and changes every week. This week's theme was Rebel With a Cause, and you can get one free with another video.

I did pincha mayurasana, with Teacher's help, lots of help, terrifying, but I'm hoping he'll keep helping me up there and keep holding my legs up! I don't know how I'll ever be able to do that on my own.





















Poetry Book is in it's finalizing stages. I think the cover is really super cool, and am really excited to see it, eventually.

Been home sick for 4 days, including weekend, and what I really want to do is just read in bed, but I haven't really, though I slept a lot, and sweat a lot, and watched some movies, from Faye's, and drank a lot of syrupy things. I think I have too much to read, and the pile is too big, and I'm overwhelmed and I just look at it.

Third Day of Autumn

sundress, leggings, flats

or

tennis shoes, rolled up jeans, tank top

or

a-line skirt, clogs, tank top

or

shorts, baggy tank top, sandals

or

shorts, flip flops, t-shirt

or

tank, jeans, flip flops

Rene said "Pain is not pain, pain is tapas." I looked it up and tapas does not actually mean pain, but something like right effort. So OK. I had pain but it was cool. The difference between neurotic pain and pain through effort. I totally get that.

And I learned the name to my favorite pose and I didn't know it had a name:

Upavistha Konasana Uth Pluthi.

Do a google search and you will get nothing, but it is real.

Reading the Power of Now and doing the thing where you stop thinking and just being in the now, and everytime I relax so much I fall over and I don't think I should do it while walking. But then for the first time in months I had a moment where I was like OMG I'm happy, and there is no reason for it. So nice, I think it works.

I liked today how Rene says Ashtanga may be one of the hardest yoga practices there are, but it corresponds to how hard the world is. Such a satisfying sentence to hear. Not like some other yoga teachers who say bliss bliss and everyone is happy and all is good. Um, no, look outside! I don't think so.

Realized if I push on my foot in the hurt tendon place in my foot while in half lotus, that totally makes my painful lotus hip issues relax relax, and are they connected?

Reading tonight at a house reading in Oakland, my first house reading. I hope I don't get in a fight. and then Tuesday in SF at the Idiolexicon series. It's like I'm just passing through the bay area on a reading tour and getting in both side of the bay. I'm thinking tonight will be more lyrical and deep stuff and Tuesday more funny, just because Elliot Harmon is funny.

The cafe I am in is playing Si Se. I think.

Going to acupuncture in a moment, which I just learned I can pay for with my FSA card. So maybe my nervous will not be so bad tonight! 4 people so pressure is off somewhat...

Was thinking I'm trying to do two forms of healing simultaneously, that might be counteracting each other. One - ashtanga heals through fire - burning it out of you- raising your frequency, and the other - massage/acupuncture heals through extreme relaxation but really opening up the spaces through a quietness. Not sure if they work against each other or with each other, but in class today Rene says that yoga is for opening you up also, so maybe both are different way of opening. I think all stress and bad mental states comes from too much body tightness, which leads to mental tightness, restriction, constriction, nothing can flow, and the life force can't get to any of the places. Open open open is relaxing relaxing is healing.

Newest fetishes:

Guys with topknots

straight guys who carry book satchels

asian guys walking alone with their bicycles

every fluffy dog in the universe

seaweed

bok choy

going back full time to an ashtanga studio (I'll save money when I'm dead)

replacing my sweets fetish with a salty fetish

Me and mom looking for water.

Mom: Bushes like this, they grow by the water.
Me: I see a glistening!

Mom teaching me to fish.

MOM: You take the salmon egg and put it on the hook, you push in on the bobber. Carrie, you're going to have to move. You reel it in like this, when you go to cast it in you push this in so the line will go out. I don't think there's any fish here. Rainbow trout looks just like a rainbow but there is a trout that looks just like these rocks. Next time I'm going to buy some waders.

Me: Look that tree fell over there, halfway, but the other tree caught it.

Mom: OK just one more time then we're going to move.

A beach with other peoples shoes. I want to follow the path because its safer.

Me: Let's keep catching rocks.

MOM: It's too shallow.

ME: Let's go eat some trout & I'll pretend you caught it.

(Year of the Hailstorm)

ME: There's a fisherman.

MOM: He's flyfishing.

ME: See how he's standing up elevated away from the water. You should do that.

MOM: Carrie, I'm not taking you fishing with me again.

ME: I really don't like the wilderness, mom. Why don't you ask the fisherman for advice?

MOM:I don't need no man for nothing.

Places I peed today

My house
Asta Yoga
La Cumbre
Mission Creek Cafe
Jubilee Hair Studio
Safeway

Kinda glad I'm out of Oakland tonight, but kinda wish I was in Oakland tonight. I want to be where the action is. Hard to know what to say but it isn't right. Too bad you always have to fight so hard against the world.

Was talking to someone in the cafe today, and she was a library activist, or something. On the board of directors for the library? Is that a thing? She saw a library book in my bag and started asking me which library and how do I like it! I said SF Main, better than Oakland, because the selection is better, and they have Link +. She didn't know what Link + was so I told her and she asked me if I was "in research"! I said no, I'm a poet, I have to. So then she was impressed and told me I must have a great command of the English language and I said "yeah." That is all we get. Then it occurred to me how most of us or a lot of us do work equivalent to someone "in research," but I bet they get paid. And why do we do it we are insane.

Have to say, despite Silliman's views on W.S. Merwin, I like him. He may be conservative, but I don't feel like "school of quietude." There is a spirituality in him that I dig. I connect school of quietude with like backyard barbecues and mundanity, domesticity, but he is never mundane. I like all the spaces that the lack of punctuation creates. I checked out The Lice tonight and Sorry, Tree. The insides look similar except Myles uses more periods.

Also played my records tonight. The first song was Power Station, then Katrina and the Waves, then Bonnie Tyler. Roommate didn't seem to be annoyed and told me to be as loud as I want! She can sleep through anything. Sweet. I'm in the big room, stealing internet from someone, our is *pending.*

To get the key we had to get past the dog, wade through the river, wake up an old angry woman, return to the under room, place buckets over our heads, send a bunch of text messages, get into a dead man's email account, win over the one-armed bandits, engross ourselves in a particular historical period, hunt down the serial numbers, sing the song off-key, pay a lot of money, present our identification cards, live our whole lives in Germany.


















I kind of hate EMI because they won't let me make my blog pretty.


Totally silent!

The cheap acupuncture is great and I am almost healed, but completely out of cash, even though only $15, its $15 and I went 6 times. I'm trying not to live on credit so that means I'm really hungry. Rice and beans, rice and eggs, quinoa and okra. It's like that. Had a great day being poor the day before payday though. Went to the SF Library, (I still can not get into the Oakland library, they don't even have Link +) and checked out TEN books, I guess I hadn't been in a while and they got a lot in. Totally got my I need to fill the void consumption fix without spending any money. Bhanil Khapil's Incubation A Space for Monsters, Deleuze and The Fold: A Critical Reader (haven't read The Fold, but whatevs), Zachary Schomburg's Scary, No Scary, Sarah Menefee's I'm not thousandfurs, Sheila E Murphy's Incessant Seeds, Tony Tost's Complex Sleep, Ish Klein's Union!, Steve Benson's Blue Book, Niedecker's Harpsichord & Salt Fish, and Mac Low's Bloomsday. I'm having a four days off vacation, two of which will be in airports/airplanes. I will try to read them all, but also have so much poetry transcribing work I want to do. I still can't do everything I want even on vacation. I also want to eat A LOT of food.

Reading

Forgot to mention:

A New Cadence Poetry Series

Presents

Carrie Hunter
and
Nicole Mauro

reading from their works

Saturday, April 24th
@ 7:30
Felix Kulpa Gallery
107 Elm Street, Santa Cruz, CA
Free



I'll be reading from A Musics, and the new Dusie 4 chapbook, Diary, as well as from my forthcoming! book from Black Radish Books, The Incompossible, and some new stuff. All very quickly. And on pink paper, because I forgot I used all the white...

Have been writing at poetry readings either a keepsake momento, poetry notes, or a textual bootleg... At the Dunagan, Morris, Grabowski reading last week, in my notes all three made references to either teleportaion, telepathy or ghosts. It's all in my notes! I want to say so new college, but only one of them went to new college. But so our group, someone name us.

Went to another acupuncture on Thursday, it is funny because I am not totally aware that it is a bad area,it seems ok, but working class, but I am so the only white chick on the bus and the only reason I notice is because everyone is looking at me oddly, not badly, but curiously. By Fruitvale something or other. I think the acupuncture hurts me because I am in so much pain in general it just hurts no matter what. There was one spot to the side of my shin, it felt like it was hitting a nerve or something, stinging. I should have told her so she could adjust it but that seemed to entail a lot of energy that I didn't have. After a while it went away so I think it was a chi thing. But even now when I touch that spot and massage it I feel it in my feet, and I've been feeling random weird sensations in my shins area, something is going on. I guess it's good. I told her the last time after the acupuncture I was wiped out I napped twice that day and was so lethargic all week, so she said she had a feeling it wouldn't be that way this time, but that acupuncture takes away the energy style you put over your real energy style (not verbatim) and your real energy or the energy your supposed to be comes in to effect. So apparently I'm supposed to have the energy of a tree stump. That actually sort of rings true, because sitting in like a 6 hour meditation for me seems so so doable. Some people could never sit still that long, but I feel like no problem (except for peeing). But I don't know how to have that kind of lifestyle and also pay rent. Fantasizing about quitting my job and sleeping in the park for 3 months straight. (Not really, bosses who are reading this, I LOVE my job! Really I don't think there is anyone more qualified to interpret IRS language than someone who has studied obscure language poetry.)

Last night my gmail got hacked, sorry people who I haven't talked to in years that don't want to hear from me, then all my electricity went out - I had the IPOD playing, the heater on, and the microwave, and then I couldn't find the fuse box. So after eating dinner in the dark, I called the landlord, and texted him, and he called me back at 10PM on a Friday night, so 5 stars on yelp for that! Then I found it and kept flipping it but nothing happened. So he said he'll have someone come out in the morning. So what else to do but go to sleep. So I put my headphones in and IPODed for a while and slept. Then he calls at 8:46 am to ask if it is still not working and so i go out barefoot and crazy haired and it is still not working. He says he can't get a hold of the contractor and is stuck in the city but will come by later but he is not sure what time. So OK. I go back to sleep and have a weird memory/dream of having to hit the reset button first, a childhood memory when I used to have to fix the braker, breaker? So I go back out there and there is another switch that is on the off position. So I flip it and everything comes on, magic. Then there is a burning smell. But it is ok. Just the heater flipped out I think. And magically the hall light that I thought had been burned out for months that I just ignore, is now on. Weird. Why do I write out strange narratives like this, I think it is metaphoric of my exhaustion somehow. I need to find the braker switch on my body.

Then because I hadn't wanted to shower in darkness, I'd decided to come to the city all dirty to go do yoga at Crunch, and then shower there where they have light. So even though the light was now on, I stuck with my plan. Everyone was smiling at me and it took me a while to realize I look like I'd come from a one night stand in last night clothes or something, greasy hair, with a frizzed out tuft sticking up in the back...

An Oakland vs Mission story:

Walking home on Telegraph last night and this guy says hi so I say hi, then he says Bitch, then he says it over and over again with different variations. Ok. I don't understand. Should I be a bitch and then he will think I'm nice? Or he just wanted to call me a bitch from the beginning and there is nothing I could do to change his mind.

Came out of BART 24th St station, and this guy says you should smile more often, like he is aware of how I do not often smile, so of course I smile, I can't help it, and then we have a chatty friendly conversation.

Although there is now a bike argument in the cafe. Arguing because he is a regular and dude has never said it to him before. No bikes in the cafe. On weekends. But weekdays are ok. I love this cafe because it is incredibly spacious and I can always get a seat, but the owners are a little uptight and unfriendly.

I think/hope writing on my laptop for hours in a Mission cafe is as restful as sleeping and napping all day. Maybe more so, going to finish (maybe) up my Delueze-Guattarian new age-music poems. I think maybe writing might be the only thing to give me an energy...

Acupuncturist said: What your pulse is telling me is that you're worn out.

I know I know. Then I realized I really really am. Went for foot pain (plantar fasciitis) on my right foot. She started on the top of my head (please don't pierce my brain!) then the wrists, then the shins, and several in the feet. They say it doesn't hurt but it did kindof. A few piercing jolty things, I may have gasped once, also was hungover and think it may have me swollenish and so overreacting. Maybe it won't happen next time. She kept telling me to breathe while she was doing it because I'm so nervous. I'm sorry I'm like that, world. Every situation.

Even though it was all about my right foot, strangely when the needles were in for a bit, my left hip started hurting, right where I used to have a pain that happened being drug across a garden holding on to a pit bull's collar (trying to protect my 16 year old collie), then my whole left leg started tingling in a weird way. Kind of reminded me of that tension I felt in my body the one time I took a yin yoga class and I thought I was going to scream and pull out all my hair. Please let me move! I guess it is an anxiety tension releasing? I guess I shouldn't do things hungover, because I thought I had enough money but I didn't and it is sliding scale cash only, that you slip in an envelope, so I didn't pay enough! I feel awful and hope they will let me come back if I pay up! Then I came home and took the best nap of my life. Woke up and had that yummy happy muscles feeling like after yoga. But I haven't had yoga. Then I went to walgreens, and came home, and took another nap, how can anyone sleep so much! I'm still so exhausted. Maybe now another nap I will call regular sleep.

New Chapbook!

Cute, right? Music poems, poems written to music, with a little Adorno thrown in, for fun. Shaped like a 45!

LINK to CLICK

Not my favorite Glove song, but there is not much. Got a remastered version CD that has the demo's, and all the songs she sings, he is singing, but differently. I like it a lot better.

Getting a little bored with my recent penchant for nostalgia though. I think for a while the past was the only "new" I could afford, but I want some real "new" now I think. Not that I can afford it much, maybe a little...

I think I am back to blogging every Sunday. It is a nice device, but I have SO many Sunday devices.

Was working on the computer all day, and had a weird computer exhaustion, plus PMS exhaustion. I took a very powerful 15 minute nap. It was so deep, right as I was falling asleep I heard this sound, like a dream sound, but mechanical, and maybe reminiscent of twilight zone or something. Which is where I think I may have gone. Then a dream voice, the kind of dream voice that wakes you up startled, startled that it might be real, says to me, and I only heard the end of the sentence: "...every piece of you." I don't know if it is a request, a demand, or a promise.

I bought a novel today for a dollar. Completely shocking to even me. But this is what the back says:

The disheveled girl with the transfusion came to join the group.

"Waiting for birds?"

"They already passed," answered the frail man on the bench with a smile that outlined the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and around his lips.

"A sand storm?"

"No: the light is healing. Today we can see all of its seven colors. The sky is brimming with the same strength that we've come to lack."


SPD has it so it must be cool~ (clickable)










Carrying around three different types of cough syrup but I don't have a cough. I have a cold though but it is ok. At least I'm not coughing, may stay home from work and sleep tomorrow. The licorice tea is great when you have this particular type of illness. My ear is doing the phlegm-poppy thing. Didn't want to go to yoga because it makes people mad when you go to yoga sick, so I went to the yoga to the people near berkeley campus, students are supposed to be miserable, so I think its ok. Also they haven't formed too many opinions yet, seemingly. I don't want to eat anything but a bowl of jasmine rice with licorice tea.

Publishing news:





















My chapbook is now an e-chapbook, The Unicorns. All about the Tenderloin. Kind of scabby, cracked out unicorns. There was a sighting at Jones and O'Farrell. I swear. Also a river of vomit so voluminous it had a current. Almost magical vomit.

And second thing is House Press is putting out a chapbook of my music poems, A Musics, I hear it will be shaped like a 45. Can't wait to see it!

My feet are killing me again. I should've taken the 1 back to my house from the post office. I want a car. I never wanted a car in years. Today was a vacation day but I'm back at work tomorrow. I got up 10 minutes later and left the house at 8:30 instead of 8:20, to go to Berkeley and talk to someone at UC Berkeley Extension about adult teaching certification. It seems cool but mom doesn't want me to spend all that money and still not get a teaching job, like what happened with my TESOL cert. I don't know either but part of the program is a required 4 semesters of teaching, so I imagine if you are in the program, people know you need to be hired, and maybe want to hire you? I have no idea. The woman said they do not have job placement, but the teachers can help, they've been in the business for years, etc, and she gave me a list of Adult Schools in the area. I should call some and see how the job market is, probably bad right now. Their classes are all on the weekend so it'd be pretty easy.

Then I went to eat a muffin and drink decaf. People look at me like I'm insane when I order decaf before noon. I want to simulate awakeness. I like not shaking all the time, so I don't really want to go back. I did a layout for the next ypolita book, still need to print it out though, because I'm not sure about the spacing, this book is a very space conscious book. Then I transcribed 11 Word pages worth of poetry bootlegs, as I'm calling them (4 different readings). Started writing a play. Created a new folder in My Documents called Oakland poems. Then I went and ate some Thai vegetarian. Then I called my mom and walked around. Then I ate some plain frozen yogurt with bananas, and I ordered all my Diary pages for my Dusie 4 book. Then I went to Kinkos and made a go-by 1 sided to 2 sided, with images. Now I have to make sure I like it and then print off or copy I mean how many copies? 50? Then I went to the post office and mailed off some chaps and picked up my package - which was The Concher, yes I bought it more for the chocolate. Then I walked way too long with a huge load on my shoulder, no wait first I went to Walgreens, bought scouring pads, eyebrow pencil (my eyebrows are driving me insane!) contact lens case (I lost mine at crunch I think) bagel chips (craving salt) and a Coke (BAD). Then I walked miserably home. Then I did something for 30 minutes I don't know what. Very important I'm sure. Reorganized my bags, and took out my laptop, got the big stupid marc jacobs bag I bought for my '08 poetry readings, put my other two bags in it, and headed to the city. I took back the stupid bag and even though I bought it on my Nordstroms card I said can you put it back to my debit card, so now my rent check won't bounce yay. Then I went to Asta Yoga, took Nicole's class and felt the yoga bliss like only halfway through. Then I tried to go to Azteca, used to be my favorite enchiladas anywhere, but it doesn't exist anymore, it is a Please Wait to be Seated place now. Horrors! I stood in front of it like a few pauses too long going huh. So instead I went to Casa Mexicana, which is ok, pretty good actually, mole sauce. Then I went to Books & Bookshelves for the Kelsey St Press reading. A lot a lot of people. Very long reading, standing room only, lasted until 10. I wrote more poetry bootlegs. A lot. Wrote 10 pages in my itsy bitsy palm sized notebook. It got very very tiring, writing so much and thinking so much, but I kept at it, obsessively. Traded David H three of Logan's chaps for three chaps (Dusie '06 (OMG!) In Fortune-Levin/Stanley/Theis, Rachel Levitsky-Cartographies of Error, Rob Halpern-Weak Link). Bought two book books (Dolores Dorantes-Sexopurosexoveloz and Septiembre, and Susan Gevertz-Black Box Cutaway (Kelsey st press!)) and tried to buy his Your Wilderness & Mine, but he wouldn't let me pay. David! Heard another good line on Bart for the Play. Now I'm going to sleep that was a hectic vacation!

Three days of head splitting headaches, morning, noon and night, and then I remember my nose spray, and it instantly dissipates. I missed two of my favorite classes because of it. Also, a possibly related exhaustion. Had a quad pain, a upper right arm pain, and then I walked so much Friday night that I feel that the bottoms of my feet are bruised. Then I went to a very crowded heat vinyasa class yesterday I had to switch my mat perpendicular to the others and kept getting kicked on one side, and this girl's fluffy hair all over my other side (why couldn't she move back - top of the mat doesn't have to be literal!)

I'm out of licorice tea and I can't think of any random health food store in Oakland besides Whole Foods. I'm really much more into going to the no name places - support the locals and all, but there might not be any around here. Joined ANOTHER credit union, instead of using ING for savings, was thinking why use any bank at all when I can go to a credit union. I'm surprised anyone still has their money in those bad banks; chase, b of a, wells. Why? Take it out! I think its similar to how there is a line to the door at Starbucks, and then the no name cafe two doors down, no line ever, plus they are totally nicer. No one knows about it.

One of my yoga teachers said a quote from Deepak Chopra and I liked it so I went and checked out a DC book, I am such a dork, but it has a nice heart meditation in it that I've been doing. It is very easy to feel heart sensations as you meditate, much more than third eye, or the kundalini thing. Then he said people who are commitment phobic and often fall for unavailable men (my favorite story), the real reason is they feel that there is no possibility of a connection to God (or Spirit=whatever), that it is unreachable. Oh, and that love is hopeless. Hmmm.

Goodreads reviews 2009

"I wonder how many of us realize that ours is the only country to have ever actually used WMD." I'm pretty sure I thoroughly enjoyed this, but that was over a week ago. Blushing on BART... This was one of the most amazing, beautiful poetries on grief I've ever read. Plan on reading this one over and over. I like how these poems about art look like visual arts in themselves... I like the subject matter- viewing Dickinson through a buddhist lens - but the way he writes it is really annoying, cloyingly sappy, etc. "she saw him as a stoic of what is left out" Absolutely terrifying. This shit is whack/wack(y)- I kept reading the blurbs over and over but I don't think I understand. The secret, I suspect, is you must find the lavender bedroom, and maybe go into the closet where the unicorn is (like narnia,) and then everything will be revealed. Where is the lavender bedroom and who is this rude girl?verging on philosophy, piecharts of "reality" = deep there are moments that seem, personal, personal moments of isolation or alienation, mixed with this sort of professional or jargony language that also reeks of alienation, also a good bit of I don't understand but I love it, also the word "eyelets"Really cool subject matter, I would never have thought about this subject matter as a subject matter, and even cooler is at the center of the subject matter is a mystery, and so you aren't even sure what you are reading about exactly. The beginning of a study, so much untapped into, although also, rather anglo-centric. Maybe some new academic will expand (or maybe has?)this study to include african or asian systems of memory...This might be about to go into a very special bookshelf called books that have fallen into the bath and are too sopping wet to read. I was still trying to figure out what expedient means means when it expediently, or unexpediently, fell. Oddly, the cover is curling up so it looks like a scroll...hmmmm, mystical. Kind of like those 2 almost identical pictures on the comics page where it says Can you find 8 things that are different? I think I found maybe 4. I like how this book starts out very linear and straightforward, and then slowly becomes more and more unreadable or at least very difficult. Kind of like my life. So genius! One of those - why didn't I think of this - kinds of things... I checked this out entirely based on the author photo. poems after the dali lamas (all of them, I think) really strange and normal at the same time. Mine is blue, and backwards. On my very last day of yoga at the yoga studio that I just broke up with, I propped this book up behind my mat, and used it as a point of focus, and kept repeating like the native tongue the vanquished like the native tongue the vanquished like the native tongue the vanquished like the native tongue the vanquished like the native tongue the vanquished until I sort of understood what it meant. My favorite is #10. Very addictive. Total cliffhanger ending. When is the sequel? sped read in 30 minutes, which probably means I didn't really like it, yes? Its like a story, is my problem. When I'm expecting something poetry like but instead get a story, it is horrifying. I am so conservative in my desire for poetry to just be poetry. I should move back to Texas.Much more specific than the last dali lama book I read which was sort of pop psychology or something, this is very specific explanation of the buddhist belief and the steps laid out to enlightenment. Geniuses. in the genre of that sort of abstract-ish, static, opaque, bunch of one-syllable words all in a row, type poetic styles, but then occasionally all the sudden a very lyrical and human human line arises. Seems to be about an intersection between nature and technology and maybe an absence of the human but just occasionally a glimpse of the human (still here a little). Hmmm, a literary Behind the Green Door? Less stars for the gnoetry. I just can't get into computer generated... Loved Julia Drescher, Erica Lewis, and CJ Martin. Also really liked the Editor's note about the etymology of "pelican." Very 90's, alien abductions, Trust No One! I had a nightmare after reading this. mystical sad sweet and erotic. I prolonged finishing this one as long as possible... Hijacking my own comment for a review: Kind of not poetry, but not really prose. Kind of a narrative but not really. And the subject matter, which I thought might depress me, has so far only intrigued. But as I read further it got sadder, which is weird as its in reverse chronological order, like a blog, and so things technically get better as you go along, but maybe it is sadder when you are starting to lose your memory than when you have totally lost it. This book made me want to go rearrange my books and put all my elizabeth treadwell books together so I can just go over take them all out and like rub them all in my hair or something. post modern neo romanticism. A revisioning of the past of the old of the passed. Micah's got a musciality you don't see much anymore. I think he's figured out a way to write in a way that is pre-postmodern without being not post modern. Very cool. Definitely too short, and I still don't understand boys. So weird!

total 165 books read, only 9 of which were prose...