- panic attacks about leaving for Finland
- writing and editing stories for the blog
- writing and re-editing You Burn Me
- more panic attacks about leaving for Finland
- sneaking into 24 Hour Fitness every evening (do not underestimate the stress of this)
- collaborating with a brilliant/busy mind to help me create an online space that can host all my literary, musical, and photographic visions for human connection
- hustling for a HARD Summer ticket so I could really bond with Annika
- absolutely living and dying at HARD summer while bonding with Annika (I don’t traditionally kiss famous people and tell but…maybe sometime over drinks if you’re buyin’)
- trying to tame down my incredibly passionate response to how poorly planned the music festival was, and how unsurprising it was that three people died GODDAMN IT HARDFEST YOU MADE IT SO HARD FOR MEDICS YOU MADE IT SO HARD FOR WATER YOU MADE IT SO IMPOSSIBLE TO CATCH JAI WOLF AND VINDATA BECAUSE– (I digress)
- trying to sell incredibly outdated SAT and AP books (2010 AP Psychology Prep Book! Come and get it while it’s still here!)
- trying to sell my mattress (Queen size Serta Mattress! Come and get it while it’s still imbibed with all the Katrina tears spilled over traumatic high school experiences and fights with Mom about being allowed to go to prom!)
- driving out to LA to see the last of the homies
- having more panic attacks
- writing too much fucking poetry
- Rwanda thoughts (where the heck do I put that? I can’t even write one book! Now I need 2?! I need that blog, I need that blog, I need that blog)
- PANIC ATTACKS
….in between all of that.
I’ve decided to tune up some classics and make AoJ host some throwback pieces from the early Naked In Public days. For the long time readers: humor the alterations, I think you’ll enjoy the little tweaks I’ve made.
AND INDEED, IT’S RELEVANT!
There was that Instagram update, and everyone’s trippin.
Below is a rustic, musky, finely-aged bone of a poem I wrote on this day exactly 2 years ago. Facebook just released some “live feed” weird shit, Snapchat now has some “memories” confusing shit, and today Instagram just swooped on Snapchat to create a whole new platform for modern self-absorption and FOMO to take flight… which is some savage shit.
And this poem stands here– in the thick of all this distance-cutting over social media– for those scorched with a deeper distance.
For those lost to a different language of Distance Ache. The kind no social media update can heal.
Drink up, me hearties. Reading a poem every couple of moons is really good for your emotional intelligence and makes life easier to handle.
Anyway. Let’s travel to a bustop, where a girl sits on a bunch, thinking about how…
Waiting for the Perfect Time It’s a day in the twenty-first century Where Tinder fuels the flame; Hook-up culture prospers And virginity means you’re tame. Where college parties are messy, Then online dating-- another norm. There's pre-teens texting nudes When they barely yet have form. But among all of this chaos-- This scavenging to connect-- Through the thick clouds of young lust And it’s dizzying effect... My heart races and then trips When I see You drawing near. The fog falls, time stops And my mind forgets the year. I’m Sappho’s fragment hanging, Suspended in time by You, Not complete, nor empty either; Pure unfound words pulsing through. Melting away are pick-up lines, Forgotten altogether is speech, Suddenly I think in Shakespeare—- But a normal sentence I can’t reach. What have You done? Where am I? “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” A second ago I was on Facebook Now I’m on “darling buds of May”. “Dear mother I cannot work the loom” (Dear lord, a LOOM?! What the hell) “Filled, by Aphrodite, with love for a boy” From her old island Sappho does yell. You walk closer to me, unaware, That inside I’m waging a war, Against some lines of poetry That comes erupting from my core. I keep my eyes fixed low Lest my eyes reveal the truth. The blush creeps up, and it’s confirmed: I’m in the presence of my Muse! Socrates warned me to the gates, These gates you’ve just unlocked— Pouring freely is this madness, This Bacchic frenzy has me shocked. Eyes on the floor, but searching Through pages that I’ve read, Wishing I could ask You on a date But quoting Plato somehow instead. “Every soul is immortal,” I think. "Because what’s always in motion can’t die", And so my soul moves toward You In this dumb body that can’t speak “Hi”. My mind grows wings, I’m soaring! Through philosophy of ancient Greece; “I’m so into you”/ “You’re hot”, Sound so stupid, to say the least. I’m possessed by just this sight of You How to explain what you’ve invoked? I’m the charioteer of flying horses, Reason and Longing fastly yoked. …. But holy hell, that last stanza?! Where the fuck am I in time? Sappho again screams, “You burn me!” And I scream back “Stop making me rhyme!” And so this poetry rages Swift and dangerous as the sea, While seconds ago the most natural thing Was just an iPhone-scrolling me. You reach my spot and I’m breathless Silence roaring thunder in my ears, And with a smile You walk on by— And Willy erupts in tears. “My sonnets!” he slaps my tongue. “Quick! Call back your shining knight!” But I shrug and watch You walk away— Our timing’s just not right.
Cheers and candy to whoever knows the featured literary references.
Happy Wednesday; Moses is still walking.