Got some help with the manuscript today, which makes me feel better. Disappointed I can't embed more Enya videos. Oh well. I will work some more on the manuscript this week. Hopefully, I'll figure out what I'm doing exactly with it in time. I deal with some strong personal traumas, including the deaths of good friends and others. This is no joke. Now, I'm thinking of going ahead with "Seven" or "Seven/Seven," but probably just "Seven."

I got some good advice today which helps a lot! I've not felt well today physically, but will go to sleep early tonight hopefully.

I've been writing some new poems to the Enya cd, and will likely listen to other stuff and see where that takes me with poems.

Concerned for the health of a family member. Wanting to move to San Francisco, but realizing the unlikelihood of this with my income, or lack there of. I just like San Francisco better than NYC. I suppose its the hills. Not sure. My cousin, actually 2 cousins live in the bay area. But it's more likely I'll stay in the great state of Colorado for a few more years. Hopefully I'll be able to head to the mountains this summer somehow. I live close to the foothills in Lakewood, but prefer to head up to my favorite horse trail when I have enough gas. I hope to attend Canto Mundo in Austin this summer. My mother will be making it possible for me to get there. I can also see my brother and sister on the way there.

Ah, Texas. I actually miss Texas.

But I'm a Coloradoan for now.

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I'd post some poems I'm working on but have decided its best to send work out to journals at this time.

Missing interactions with writers, daily interactions, but as someone said, we interact with writers when we read their work, so I'll probably be reading some this week as groups are cancelled till the 21st, but I think my roommate may be wrong about that. I hope so. I like to have something to do, but less stressful than teaching or working.

I'm off to facebook now.

People liked my poem, "The Breaking," today in the workshop. It was less problematic than I had previously thought. So much so that I am now thinking of titling the manuscript, "The Breaking."

Ooooohhhh those smiling faces.

I self-berated myself in the last two posts, and I don't do that anymore. In any case, I printed out a copy of Seven and am thinking of titling it "Seven" again, and I'm thinking of keeping Latin section titles too. It felt re-affirming to have a hard copy for some reason, and in having that hard copy, I don't think books will ever totally disappear? I suppose that may only be for my age group, and I'm 46. Young kids seem to prefer electronic devices and texting, so my guess is they would prefer something like nook or whatever it's called. Many poetry presses are not offering their books in this manner, which I think will be detrimental during the transition. People actually read poetry in this manner NOW. And most contemporary poets aren't publishing in this manner as presses are slow about doing so still. I want my books to be able to be downloaded or whatever in this manner. Does anyone know a press which is on nook etc? I don't think many even read this, but again, it does me good to relieve stress here, and I think in more ways than one the blog has taken a turn towards trauma, PTSD, bipolar etc. and how those things intertwine to make one tick. No it's not about that, it's about survival and moving beyond that to thriving. It's about finding confidence when one hasn't had it, or has gone between grandiose thinking and severe depression.

People still talk community, but for some, that's very narrow and others very broad. I prefer those with broad vision. VISION to see others outside of a narrow clique of 8 or so "friends". Thank god I am recognizing those that are supportive beyond a small group, beyond mere talk of support. I really have some HUGE support out there and I've been trying to get the support of people who just won't support me. There are many supportive Chicano/as who move like ghosts through the talkers and provide real action, assistance and support. I used to call this blog Chicana Poetics but changed the title. I maybe shouldn't have changed the title. I let myself get discouraged by a few, a very few human beings that made mistakes in their own grandiosity and since then that's changed. They have become about supporting others, but this wasn't always the case. I'm sorry to say this, but some folks screw others unintentionally. So over all, I've decided to write and maybe review a few books. This is my effort to support others whose art is working for me and move on to doing some good work.

I am finding community here in Colorado, but it's a long travel time, so I don't know where it will go. I'm trying another poetry group on May 5th.

Tomorrow I head to Westminster for a poetry group, which is way too far north for me to be attending. We'll see if I can make it through the rest of the course. Gas prices are obviously outrageous, and I'll have to take 3 buses to get there.

In any case, the main reason for my posting today is that I will no longer berate myself here or anywhere else. It's hard work. It's a long story.

I have an interest in the poetry of Witness, or poetry of trauma. I want to read Carolyn Forche's anthology on it, and more so I want to try to write about it, but it is very difficult.


But I can do it!

I think I can. I believe in myself. I will say these new hoaky words every day here on out.

I realized the poetry group I'm to attend doesn't start till May 5th. I have another group of great poets that meets on Saturday, and hopefully I'll get a poem work-shopped. I have to take the bus. No gas money.

It's a problematic poem in my manuscript titled "The Breaking." I really hope to get some feedback on it, and make more copies by Sat. My second printer broke, but I exchanged it for a new one. Thank God. I really need a printer. Someone said to make the poem more dream-like using dream language, which is what I think I had initially, but I will play around with it and hopefully get some good feedback in the workshop.

Some frustration when I am not writing. I notice when I write I am just more happy than when I don't write. That said, I'm going to go try and write something.

I really love Enya, which possibly offsets my love for Dylan in some way. I am very thankful to the people who gave me the Enya CD. It's very soothing music to listen to.


Who am I kidding? I am boring!!!!!! ha

Today I didn't write at all, after having written two flat-footed awkward poems yesterday. Well, it's only 10 pm, so maybe I'll write something now.

It is raining here and so dark that I have difficulty driving at night. I wonder if I need glasses. I can't see a damn thing in the dark. One poem I wrote was about how darkness improves our ability to see. Maybe not in my case. It will be a relief somewhat when I get rid of the car in July, after Canto Mundo. I really can't drive anymore.

I am still making cards, drawing and trying to write poems. I really like Positively Fourth Street, despite its harsh tone. So much truth to it that it stings, and I'm probably on the other side of it now. If that makes any sense.

Feeling free to be me? Yes, somewhat.

All I have planned for is Canto Mundo and writing more, revising more, reading more. I can't afford AWP and nobody wants me on their panel anyway.

In the end it comes down to the appearance of this thing we call "success." I'm learning that success isn't all it's cracked up to be. It can be like trying to take a drink of water from a fire hose. I like people who flat out state that there's nothing to gain in poetry. Somehow, it's true. I mean in anything really. We are limited in our capabilities and those limitations can create havoc when we try to meet unrealistic goals, but I am thinking there are a lot of realistic goals I can set myself up to achieve, but what is success really? Everyone is your friend when things are going well, but if there's real life difficulties, financial stresses ect. people disappear. The goal is to be like a duck, smooth on top, but paddling frantically beneath the water. Somehow I think poetry is the whole duck. Sometimes the duck is frantically paddling up stream, sometimes he's flying awkwardly downstream, sometimes he's floating gracefully, and sometimes he's just plain shot dead. There was a goose in Denver with an arrow shot clean through his breast, and the news commentator said they couldn't catch him, but he seemed to not be bothered by the arrow. Yeah, right, just an arrow sticking out both ends. It doesn't seem to look too bad. But none the less, goose, duck, bird or any other metaphor, as a poet or as a human being there are times when you get stuck.


Peace.

You have a right to need things from others.
You have a right to put yourself first sometimes.
You have a right to feel and express your emotions or your pain.
You have the right to be the final judge of your beliefs and accept them as legitimate.
You have the right to ask for emotional support (even though you might not always get it.
You have a right to protest any treatment or criticism that feels bad to you.
You have a right to negotiate for change.
You have a right to say no; saying no doesn't make you bad or selfish.
You have a right to choose not to respond to a situation.
You have a right, sometimes, to inconvenience or disappoint others.
You have a right to want things.

from the DBT Therapy Skills Workbook

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I really am getting into Enya and so thankful for the people who got me the CD.

I bought some construction paper to make people cards.

It's a beautiful, beautiful day. Still getting poems in the mail and writing new ones.

Cheers.

Today I wrote a poem about plants and women tentatively titled: "Woman as Afterthought." I am bummed I can no longer post videos, only link to them.
In any case, yesterday I wrote 3 poems and today the 4th, so now I need to work on revising them. Battling discouragement as a poet. I mean, Lord, the bullshit is just sooooo prevalent, but instead I will focus on the new poems and probably sending the manuscript out in the next week or two, somehow, as I am utterly broke. I may possibly wait until May 1st when I get my check. Yet, not having to teach is helping tremendously. I am less anxious, less overwhelmed and eager to write. I have a lot of anxiety and am, according to many, chronically shy in person. My last reading was a total flop as I'd grown so discouraged about po-biz, I felt no need to write, but the fact is, I need to write. I need to get my thoughts down and play with words. But more importantly, writing, the actual process of sitting down and getting something on paper makes me happy. I find it most often utterly pleasurable.

My writing group meets tomorrow and I will try to use the last of my gas to go. :(
Luckily, I will no longer be responsible for the car in July.

Got my hardship deferment for student loans in the mail today.

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My roomate is still very sick. Luckily I haven't caught it. We'll see.

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I am looking forward to reading some books and doing reviews. I need to order some press catalogs or request review copies. Hopefully, I'll soon find something I can review. My latest review is scheduled to come out in the El paso Times this week or next. It is on Maceo Montoya's THE SCOUNDREL AND THE OPTIMIST, a very good book I recommend.

I've spent some time on the bus and recognize more and more how a life in academia can be very offset from the lives of everyday working class people. I am blessed to be able to spend my days interacting with every day people who have to work long hours. I am very blessed to finally have time to write. Speaking of that, I need to get back to it.