Get Well Soon TR

Oh, how we love Trent Reznor, the man with his own NIN army.

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A Strange Feeling

I really do not have much to say other than:

1) I am too old for this no sleep, social calendar thing that I seem to be partaking in lately.

2) It’s not like I haven’t been doing this school thing for the past 16 years of my life, and yet this first day of school feels so foreign.  I almost feel like I have been out in the real world for years, and I am returning to this college thing as a veteran adult, looking at the younglings like I don’t quite fit in.  Or perhaps it’s just because I am sitting in the business school where I very obviously don’t fit in. Maybe the universe will realign itself when I am visiting the usual buildings that I have frequented in the past.

Hello.

Hello vast internet and its readers. Forgive me, for we have not spoken for awhile; nevertheless, my pen still meets with paper.  Today I begin a personal social experiment, a self-diagnostic.  At the very least, it will be many hours of answers to questions asked during therapy sessions all compacted neatly into one little notebook.

Meanwhile, I recommend reading the following for male and female, young and old readers alike:

Manic about Manic D Press

I do not think my poetry is for everyone. I do not think that my poetry belongs in most, and especially not traditional, publishing houses. But I certainly do with every fragment of my soul believe that my poetry + Manic D Press = just right. Save for the fact that the small press does not necessarily inform authors that their works have been trashed.  Perhaps I am too demanding, but I find this a bit rude and inconsiderate:

Please do not call or email regarding your submission. We’ll be in touch if we’re going to publish your work.

Yeah, mail is lost quite rarely, but it does happen.

If I close my eyes, stick my head in the ground ostrich-style, and pretend the above quote never happened, I feel at home among the Manic D Press Books.  I like the authors. I like their works. I like the cover art. The fonts. EVERYTHING seems right and equivalent to how I would like to see my works enter the print world.

Just for kicks, here is my submission letter, lovingly formed and apparently not appreciated:

To Jennifer Joseph and Manic D Press,

I cannot tolerate suck-ups.  So it bothers me slightly that the following letter of submission might be misconstrued as a shiny red apple.   Let me assure you, it is not.  If anything, consider this an olive.  Bold, flavorful, and quite literally an hors d’oeuvre, this letter’s purpose serves to market my poetry for publishing; nevertheless, in doing so, I must first tell you that when reading about and digging around Manic D Press, I have never felt more at home in a literary sense.

In regard to the Manic D Press publication that I chose to address in this letter (Matt Cook’s The Unreasonable Slug), I must reply that, in addition to specific thoughts on the author’s work, my most striking observation is the book itself.  More than half of my hand-written comments were made before I even read a single line of poetry.  I oohed and aahed over the simplicity and sophistic integrity of the overall piece.  From the subtlety of the colors and the aesthetically pleasing cover art to the understated fonts and layout, the overall book rested in my hand an individual work of accomplished art.  All of this (I swear) I noted before even reading your (Joseph’s) quote:

“It’s not just the writing itself but it’s the whole: it’s the cover, it’s the way the book feels in your hand. It’s a whole experience…a book is the proper place for words to live.”

As for Matt Cook and his poetry in general, I appreciate his phrasing, diction, and voice as in the line “probably suffered from poor packaging” on page fifteen.  His poetry offers idiosyncratic and bizarre observations of ordinary topics that would otherwise fall beneath average examination, or would at least be addressed with detached language and phrasing.  Yet he revisits the menial parts of life with comically dry and cynical interest, caring masked by “not” caring.  Rhythmically Cook’s collective work seamlessly flows from one poem to the next, creating harmony among his words.

Nevertheless, I see similarities between his works and mine.  The vague, sometimes misleading, yet intriguing titles.  His free-form style rather than following traditional rhyme schemes and parameters.  His use of repetition as a literary device.

However, despite these similarities, my poetry and prose contrast his observational style by speaking with a more confrontational, poignant voice.  My words are personal and strong.  I often describe my poetic execution as the mating of Nicole Blackman’s voice with the tone of a Kafka-Poe hybrid, perhaps with a few contemporary references in reminiscence of T. S. Elliot.  Like Blackman, I command the audience’s attention by speaking directly to the reader, placing the reader in the position of one of my characters.  Sometimes I assault the reader; in other instances I toy with the audience by offering multiple innuendoes and hinting toward the darker side of words’ connotations.  My poetry is not one-sided.  I write to challenge the audience, to evoke a response so that the written word becomes a dialogue rather than a monologue.   

After trying my poetry for publication within several literary journals and magazines—to no avail—I have realized that I would rather my poetry exist as a whole, its own publication standing on a shelf in its own right.  It has become my dream to work with a small, quirky press dedicated to progress and quality, so that the aesthetics and feel of the overall final product may embrace my poetic content and truly represent me as an author and a person.  A book, I feel, is the proper place for my words to live, and I also believe that Manic D Press is the rightful place for my book to come to life.

Thus, I present to you a sampling of seven poems representative of my proposed book, Sunnyside Up, written under the pseudonym Mersedes Bach, which I have also used to construct my blog, Scant.

Sincerely,

 

And here lies the tentative cover art that will not be born from Manic D Press:

EM-ARE-EYE

So tomorrow I will be getting an MRI, having an MRI, undergoing an MRI…whatever. The point is me=MRI tomorrow for participation credit in a PSYC study, researching who knows what.  Especially since a scan of the inside of my brain will produce two possible results:

1) Revealing little aliens operating my body from inside my brain, just waiting for the perfect moment to burst out and take over the world. (This could explain the Pinky and the Brain thing-don’t worry, it’s a YouTube reference)

2) A single, lone tumbleweed.

Mad Hatter

It has now become official: Urbandictionary.com has killed my dreams, betrayed me, and permanently crippled my preferred vocabulary.  I can no longer flippantly and obsessively rely on the term “mad hatter” at my convenience for describing any trippy, psychedelic, or curious observations.  Truly I have relied on the phrase far too extensively; however, I do not appreciate now having to go cold turkey off the term.
  

Or perhaps I should blame the urban public and its constant alterations of contextual meanings.   So many common words in the English language have acquired so many different vernacular meanings, all entirely unrelated to their proper denotations, that even natively speaking English-folk can no longer properly and efficiently communicate.  Notice the subtle difference between “the shit” and “is shit”.  Since when does “deface” pertain to an online action rather than a physical show of disrespect, i.e. destroying with intention?  No, no.  “Deface” means to defriend someone on Facebook.
 

Wait.  Did I just use a previously non-existent word (defriend) and misuse the word friend?  You see, the term friend at one time applied to a person known extremely well and considered loyal, fun, and dependable.  However, with the dawn of Facebook, the term has been devalued to mere “acquaintance” or “person convenient to make me look popular like I have, like a ton of friends”.
 

But I digress.  This pertains to “mad hatter”.  Once such an inspiring character, full of endless literary opportunities, the term now flatly refers to a hand job.  Actually, a bad hand job.  Not even a good one.  In fact the hand job in question, of course called a mad hatter, goes something like this according to Urban Dictionary: “A poorly performed handjob. Usually by a girl who says she is experienced. Yet, in actuality, she jerks you off like a crazed sea dragon.”  I myself, as a chick, have never received a “hand job” nonetheless a bad one; however, I can see where the crazed sea dragon would be somewhat of a turn off.
 

If this were not a horrid enough redefining of my precious, ALAS! Urban Dictionary has provided yet another defacement of the term:

“In this situation, a man would be in the process of getting head from his Partner, while he is standing and she is on her knees. Right before ejaculation the man would pull out, cum in her eyes, sit on top of her head and drop a deuce.

Last night I picked up this ho at the club and when she was giving me head I pulled off a mad hatter.”

See this is the maddening part of it all, the term “mad hatter” is not even necessary for this situation.  This event already has a name-”Blumpkins”.  Also, a beauty of the English language: numerous and never-ending supplies of words, all to describe the same phenomenon.
 

Yes, I realize Urban Dictionary does not fully deserve the blame.  The convergence of all languages helped form the English language, thus providing multiple words with the same meaning.  This I know.  I also know that pop culture leads to references that lend to the rewriting of pages and pages within our dictionary bible.  Did you like my aforementioned “my precious” reference?  Lord of the Rings has officially contributed to our language, our vernacular; however, I must note that the definitions provided on Urban Dictionary for this term are shoddy at best.
 

Nevertheless, for one cause or for all, the term “mad hatter” has become stricken from my vocabulary archives for fear of a misinterpretation.  Contextual clues do not always save the day, especially when the phrase is employed in a vague manner, as I usually intend.  Nor does the typical accompanying of sarcasm. 
 

Let it be known that I refer not to a blumpkin when I say that Urban Dictionary and our modern tailoring of the English language have some mad hatter connotations.

 

 

 

 

“Violence of the Lambs”, Not Without Controversy

“The greatest threat to civilization in the next half century is not nuclear arms or global warming or a superresistant virus that will wipe us out by the millions.  John Jeremiah Sullivan contemplates the coming battle between man and best.” 

In one of my classes (for which I should be writing a paper; however, I am squandering my time writing other things…) we are discussing culture jamming.  While in a biology lecture (neither indulging in cell membrane communication nor researching a paper topic for the aforementioned class) I happened upon this article in an old issue of GQ (I am behind in my periodical reading).  I know, I know…GQ.  But! This article demands attention, and it certainly claims its fair share in blogs and online journalism.  John Jeremiah Sullivan exquisitely writes with sophistication, purpose, and yes a little trickery, but who does not enjoy a quality piece of literary prank now and then?  The article foreshadows the near future, years when man and beast rival for ownership of land and resources, years that Sullivan predicts loom not too far ahead.  I have listed some links with fair discussions of the article; however, I advise first reading the actual article before its criticism so as not to spoil the punchline.

The article: Sullivan, John Jeremiah. “Violence of the Lambs.” Gentlemen’s Quarterly Feb. 2008.

 Noteworthy links:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/04/AR2008020402772.html

http://stevereads.blogspot.com/2008/01/in-penny-press.html

http://outside-blog.away.com/blog/2008/01/gorillas-pissed.html