| poem: Everything Looks Different |
[Tuesday
December 1st, 2009 at 12:24pm] |
under florescent lighting.
The flowers don't look so
fresh cut, the bananas are
a jaundice yellow, the song
on the radio is static with drums,
and you are not the person
I once knew.
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| singlehood |
[Wednesday
November 25th, 2009 at 11:36am] |
what's so fucking wrong with being single? i feel like i have a disease that all of you un-single people are trying to avoid catching. oh, what's wrong with jesi? she's single. seriously people! i'm getting tired of it. because i'm single i'm the crazy cat lady, i'm a lesbian, i hate men, i'm too picky, i need to try harder, i need to move, i need to look good at all times, i can't say no to any social occasions, i need to try online dating, i need to go out more, i'm desperate, i'm not desperate enough, i'm too crazy/emotional/demanding/depressed/negative ... can you think of anything else, i'm sure you can.
i know that deep down my un-single friends are like thank god i'm not jesi. the only thing i can say to that is ditto!
my friend posted a post addressing all the single ladies and what they should do when they get married and what to do about changing their names. and she's like problem solved! not once does she suggest, hey how bout not getting married. how bout, stay single.
i just feel that being single isn't a viable option. like everyone needs to avoid it. i feel that to be human you aren't supposed to be single. you're supposed to be partnered. and if you aren't partnered up you really aren't human. you're missing out on life! being single means you are an alien, you are someone who needs to be partnered, you are someone who is always looking to be partnered, you are on you're way to be partnered. because singleness is not a goal, a city, a home, it's just a transitional place. a place you only rent. ultimately, being single is not what you want to be.
and if you want to get metaphorical or philosophical; single means 1. 1 usually represents whole. so by fearing singleness you ultimately are fearing being whole. by wanting to be partnered you feel that you can't be whole on your own, you need another to complete you, you need another to feel whole. hmmmmmmm... you could say that's just my opinion but isn't that what single means? what are your thoughts?
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| poem When There's Nothing Left |
[Tuesday
November 24th, 2009 at 4:05pm] |
When There's Nothing Left
What do you do
when they have all
gone away,
and you are left in
snow flurry darkness.
What are you thinking
while you whittle
the minutes away by
pouring a glass of cabernet
and nibble on brie in
Prague or some foreign city
where the street signs
are just a child's scribbles.
What are you feeling
as you sit at the white
formica table looking
out of a wooden-framed
window where rows upon
rows of concrete buildings
older than you are
sit humbly waiting.
What are you waiting for
after he has brushed back
your hair, kisses your
forehead, whispers, then
leaves, a melancholy cat
purrs at your feet
and you lie back
among the musky
cotton sheets. What
are you waiting for.
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| plus |
[Thursday
November 12th, 2009 at 12:53pm] |
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money woes!
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| bad week |
[Thursday
November 12th, 2009 at 11:02am] |
i have been feeling horrible this week and for no reason. i've been irritable, agitated, full of dread, stressed, and anxious, almost having an anxiety attack right now. i'm trying to get my heart rate down. relax relax.
i am stressed about the kittens that i've been fostering. they are sweet, lovable, cute, cuddly etc. but my other cats, esp. Niki, are not happy. Niki didn't come in last night, and she's starting to spray like a male cat. it's terrible, and i feel so sorry for her. i need to find another home for the kittens. god i really wish someone else would foster them. it would totally set my mind at ease. i would rather not drop them off at a shelter. if you have ever been in one you know what i mean.
and then the 20th anniversary of the MFA program is this saturday, and this is what's causing the anxiety. i just don't do well with big crowds, never have. not even big parties. and reunions are the worst, because i feel it's not just about getting together and talking but it's about seeing what people look like, what they're doing, etc, competition. i feel like i'm in a race that i didn't sign up for. so i usually try and avoid them. but my friend is coming down and going to it and i would like to spend time with her so i feel obligated to go. and i would also like to go, but i have this pre-existing condition, that's how social anxiety feels. arrrghhhh
also even though i don't have a period, i still go through the emotions. that is i still have pms symptoms.
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| i know i told you guys that i was going to library school |
[Thursday
November 5th, 2009 at 5:10pm] |
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well i lied. i'm going back to get an mfa in film, or screenwriting. i'm looking into these schools: San Francisco State, Univ. of Texas Austin, Univ. of IA, Boston Univ, and The New School in NYC. and maybe Chicago.
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| there is some truth to |
[Wednesday
October 28th, 2009 at 11:41am] |
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Tupac's tattoo Thug Life which is across his belly. i always thought well tupac this is why they treat you like a thug. but it's hard to be different when people keep treating you like a thug, or in my case a garbage can. that's what i have tattooed across my belly garbage can.
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| i just don't care! |
[Wednesday
October 28th, 2009 at 11:39am] |
zipitty doo da, zipitty day, my oh my what a wonderful day, plenty of sunshine coming my way... HA!
found out that anne bahde is behind me not getting promoted, but well, i just don't give a shit anymore! if she wants bill she can have him. now at least her wrath won't just be on me!
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| i haven't sent this yet |
[Wednesday
October 28th, 2009 at 10:59am] |
but am thinking about it.
a little background: Mary Beth is my co-worker, she is a Library Assistant III, while I am a Library Assistant II. 3's are higher, get paid more than 2's. Dorothy Patterson was overlooked to be an LA 4, she went to the union, fought for the position, mgmt had to open the position so anyone could apply for it, she did, but eventually didn't get it. of course.
Hello,
I have just learned that Bill Staninger will be replacing Mary Beth. Upon hearing this, of course, I was upset. At management, at myself.
At myself, because I realize that no matter what I do in life I could never quite fit into the mold of a professional. I will always be an artist at heart. I did think that maybe, just maybe, I could try. Given an opportunity I could step up to the plate, move upward, learn, challenge myself and hit that ball out of the park. (Of course I could never exactly replace Mary Beth, but who could.) Alas, I will not be given that opportunity since Bill has already been approached (and I haven't even been approached). Anyways, I just want to give you my blessings. Unlike Dorothy Patterson, I will not fight this, nor will I apply for the job if it opens up. All I ask, in the future, next time you screw someone over, please treat them with respect, and with a little decency. Thank you.
And I will leave you with a poem, since that of course is what I do best.
Marx
There's a familiar
ache in our shoulder blades
that spreads across the skin
of our backs and digs
its roots into the base
of our skull.
The dull ache. Hidden. Deep.
Black-blue.
We struggle to obliterate,
sedate the crawling black-blue.
We struggle against it.
Refusing to face up.
But eventually we settle.
For forgetfulness. We settle.
For a punch in the abdomen.
We settle. As we always do.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Jesica Brubaker
LA II, who has been working here 10 years
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| Home |
[Thursday
October 22nd, 2009 at 9:52am] |
i really didn't care for this book, Home, by Marilynne Robinson, but it did have one shining moment,
"And then their return to the 'pays natal,' where the same old willows swept the same ragged lawns, where the same old prairie arose and bloomed as negligence permitted. Home. What kinder place could there be on earth, and why did it seem to them all like exile? Oh, not to know every stump and stone, not to remember how the fields of Queen Anne's lace figured in the childish happiness they had offered to their father's hopes..."
i feel that going home, to live/stay, is like exile and not only exile but failing, admitting defeat. that's why i'm absolutely petrified to move back to IA.
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| i wrote this poem last week |
[Wednesday
October 14th, 2009 at 9:39am] |
after i had written it, i gave it to my co-worker. i found out on monday that her mother passed over the weekend. maybe i should stop passing out my poems.
Mother and Daughter
- Untitled (Red and Black), Mark Rothko
She’s not just red, that
beautiful red red, but
she’s red, that out-reds
other reds. She doesn’t
even have to smile. She
is whole. Horizontal.
Forgiving.
Mother.
I am red, but only scratches
of red. A red scribble
among the blurry black
below. I am empty.
Vertical.
Desperate.
Daughter.
I will never be able
to achieve the kind of
happiness she wants for
me.
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| time to grow up |
[Monday
October 12th, 2009 at 12:14pm] |
well, i guess it's time for me to grow up. start thinking/planning on things that i wouldn't otherwise think/plan on. and i'm waaaaayyyy overdue. most of you are way ahead of me. you adults you!
i need to start saving to get a car. not a brand new one. will prolly never own a brand new car in my lifetime. and why would i, when i could own a great used car.
also, i need to start planning and saving up for children. usually people do this when they are in a relationship. well, unfortunately, i can't and won't wait or depend on one. if i did, i possibly won't have children. as of right now, i am planning on adopting. not necessarily babies. i am willing to adopt toddlers and even 5-6 years olds.
in order to adopt i would like to provide my kids with a bigger place. either a two/three bedroom apt. or condo or even house. if i am to afford this i am thinking i will move back to IA. plus i want my kids to be close to my family.
i am a city girl, and i really wish there was a really cool city in IA, like portland, seattle, austin, or even denver. but there isn't. and that really really sucks. that's the only thing i don't like about IA. i really don't care for chicago. i'm not a big chicago fan. soooo... damn it. wish my fam moved to a state with cooler cities.
well i don't have to decide on that yet. right now i'm just focusing on saving up to buy a car. as for the rest, we'll see....
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| infection city |
[Friday
October 2nd, 2009 at 12:06pm] |
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for some reason i have been in infection city lately. not by choice. in july it was staph, then this month, ear, then eyelid. i'm hoping nothing serious is going on with my body and it's just stress and working too much. this week i'm pulling in about 60 hours of work and no days off. since i'm being furloughed i can't really complain. Borders has helped me make up the 200 dollars i'm losing from my library check. sooo... hopefully my health won't suffer. i'm going to try and get a good night's sleep and take my vitamins. and eat soup, even tho it's hot. it helps that it's cold in the library.
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| where i number the important things in education |
[Monday
September 28th, 2009 at 12:39pm] |
1. art, ie poetry, music, literature, painting, acting, any and all fields of creativity
2. philosophy, religion, social science, psychology
3. physical education, not necessarily sports, but an emphasis on taking care of one's body, nutrition, anatomy
4. geography, politics, history, learning other cultures, languages, actually experiencing life in another country
i have found that self teaching myself has been the most satisfying. no longer do i have to learn something just because of a teacher's personal preference or because of some stupid curriculum.
i did not add science or math, and i know that will piss off some of you, but in my 36 years on this planet not once have i had a use for science or math beyond the basic science and math i learned in high school, i would possibly argue, elementary school.
i've had arguments about math. maths (people) feel very neglected and rejected. and i say, as you should! i had a specific argument dealing with the fact that no one would ever joyfully exclaim i have never read a book on poetry, as they joyfully exclaim thank god i have never taken calculus. that maybe true. but just as math is neglected so is poetry, equally. i bet you that most people would have math higher on their list than mine. in fact math is a requirement to graduate high school. along with english, ie, literature. my argument lies in how many people opt to take poetry reading in high school? are there even classes offered to learn/read poetry? not in my high school and i specialised in english. it wasn't until i got out of high school that i took poetry classes. and unfortunately, i was absolutely terrified of reading poetry. i didn't have any experience in poetry. my experience was quite minimal. anyways, i feel that poetry was like art classes, a class you could take but didn't have to, not a requirement. while math was always a requirement, there was no way of getting out of it. so which does this society value more? if you look at the education system, math wins. if you look outside the educational system, no one wins.
what are your thoughts?
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| haven't we had this discussion before? |
[Monday
September 28th, 2009 at 10:55am] |
probably.
i've been in discussion with or lecturing my friend jamie about success as an artist and/or being able to call yourself an artist. here are the emails:
jamie,
i was thinking of you last night, specifically, i thought jamie should really read artists' biographies. such as, Van Gogh, Rimbaud, Jean Rhys, Baudelaire, etc. reading these bios have helped me a lot as a fellow artist. it has also made me feel pretty good about my life in general. a lot of these artists struggled all of their lives, never being successful, never making any money off of their art. at one point in all of their lives they were considered un-artists.
being an artist is a struggle, and we face possibly never succeeding or making money. this is a fact we have to face. but we create because of the joy of creating! also start reading poetry, don't analyze it, just read it, enjoy it, absorb it. reading poetry helps me to continue to write. pick up the book Biogeography by Sandra Meek. i think you might like it.
and
one more thing,
you have every right to call yourself a poet/artist because being an artist isn't just about creating, it's also about struggling. every artist struggles in defining who they are and they also struggle with their art. many artists go for long periods of time not creating. that's just what life is for an artist. an artist's ups and downs, in my opinion, have far steeper mountains to climb and fall down than most's. we think/analyze, we think/analyze a lot. almost too much. and it never seems we are ever happy. even when we do get successful, ie, rothko killed himself, so did anne sexton, both achieved great success but still weren't happy. this is an artist's lot in life. welcome to the club baby!
i have read that even Madonna isn't happy, or isn't satisfied. even with the kind of success she has achieved, she still isn't satisfied. that just pisses me off, cuz that means that no matter how successful i am as an artist i will never be happy/satisfied. this life is so sucky! i am so done with it. it's like the dream i had last night, i lost 10 pounds in it and i still thought i was fat. ugh!
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| The Woman with the Turned Head |
[Monday
September 14th, 2009 at 4:37pm] |
The Woman with the Turned Head
from the painting Girl Seated in a Cemetery by Eugene Delacroix, 1824
Is it something she has forgotten?
The pale yellow stickiness of the clouds
just beyond her shoulders illuminates
that which was.
No time to sleep among the gravedigger’s hands.
No time to watch the blue sky disburse
into heaven.
She can only gasp, and look at that
which is not there.
Her long twisted hair wrapping around
any thoughts that dare not to leave
her blushing lips. Her naked right shoulder
braving the approaching cold night.
Ah, she is dumb to just sit there
and just wait
for the nothingness to envelop her.
Stand! Scream!
Quit wasting our time.
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| this is not 25 |
[Tuesday
August 18th, 2009 at 11:17am] |
When we were pebbles
not just any pebbles
but smooth turquoise and
light shimmering violet,
from one blow of golden amber air
we scatter through time and
blue shadows
we copulate
conceiving the plan
of disparity we abort it
shovel it out from the deep glistening
cave until only crystals gleam
until it echoes
it's over discharge
go back go forward
trace our fingers along the quilted patterns
of life sweet kaboom
night night
-inspired by Larry Poons painting, Han-San Cadence
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| about 24 |
[Tuesday
August 18th, 2009 at 11:14am] |
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poems written this year so far.
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