May 14, 2021

Contemplations of Memories of Musical Theatre College
(In Canada)
those memories i don’t quite carry…
i have the stories
(the ones that i memorized like monologues,
like i do all my important memories,
because i know otherwise
they’ll float away
into the ether
of my mind)
but i don’t have any memories
of egregious things said to me
or a teacher crossing a line in front of me
(though i heard some second hand,
and those do stick in my mind,
as general feelings about particular instructors
moreso than the words/facts themselves)

for someone who rarely understands what their feelings are at any given moment,
i pretty much only remember emotions from any point in my life.
(and unfortunately
the memories that stick out to me
are all pretty much ones that fall under the umbrella of
despair.)

i had fun
at Musical Theatre College
(in Canada)
and yes, there were some crazy things we did
(but i also knew of other colleges that did more [or slightly less] heinous things
said more troublesome things
made more problematic decisions)
but i’d already been in this industry,
and in classes associated with this industry
for over a decade at that point,
so i suppose i had already taken for granted that
this was how we were supposed to find our
‘voices’
as artists.

which is absolutely not to say that what was done is what should be allowed
or is the ‘right way’ to train young, impressionable artists,
i simply stuck my bony chin out
and accepted it as it was(is)
and perhaps that makes me complicit
and perhaps that makes me traumatized
but there HAS to be a better way.

…right?

May 13, 2021

An Ode to Pet Names

‘Baby’ was never a name i thought was appropriate for romantic interactions
but somehow i ended up with that with you
which became ‘Puppy’
(because we read American Gods at the same time together)
and that turned to ‘Pupup’, and ‘Pupupupupup’
(which might have been part of what spawned the nickname of that show we worked on)
but slowly the one syllable nickname/pet name stuck
and we started calling each other ‘Kip’
chirruping across bookstores
to find each other
and when we were silly
that became ‘Kyaaaahhhhp’
others became ‘Kips’ too
variations on a theme
(most spoonerisms)
and we are still ‘Kip’ to each other
to this day.

May 12, 2021

combing
through etsy
to find
a piece
of indigenous art
of wood
for the five year anniversary
that suits
us both

~~~

wow
yesterday i was so inspired
to write and contemplate
the original monologue
and today
i am not feeling it
at
all.

(but maybe i should just try anyway)

~~~

(and why do i feel the need to decompress after acting class
whether i do well or not
whether i achieve any sort of catharsis?)
(i still feel a bit like an observer
an outsider…
when will that end and i can feel truly
part
of something?)

May 11, 2021

i like watching kip draw,
the decisions made
so quickly,
the lines deft and
decisions clear.
i often wish i could draw,
but when i practice
i get so frustrated;
every image i see in my head
i don’t have the muscle control to get
onto the page
or screen
or whatever.
while i draw, i feel like that portrait
of Jesus
that was “cleaned”
[botched]
and i’m just trying to do my best
to put some eyes
a nose
and maybe a mouth
back on myself
but i know with my skills
they’ll be
so sad
so i just do it lightly
and hope no one else notices
my black hole of a face
with child-like imprinting
there where real features used to be.

May 10, 2021

a different kind of sleepy this morning
a cocoon of warmth
of ‘i actually slept last night
nearly through the night
when’s the last time i had a good
night’s
sleep?’
but the sleepiness that comes from that
actual
restful
sleep
is quite different than the usual
just
tired.

(sorry i got bored of this poem like immediately,
i guess that’s part of writing every day,
right?)

May 9, 2021

to wake up
the next day
and the next day
and the next day
forever feels like
[exhaustion]

but some people see it as
opportunity
and i’d love to be one of those people

[maybe one day?]

~~~

cold air
makes me feel
so forlorn
even in the springtime
when it should be a reminder of
where we just were
(though it’s barely the temperature we’re coming from)
it feels like
everything is dying again
and i’ll be placed in my
hibernation
for my own good
because otherwise
that hibernation
would beg to be
permanent.

~~~

to create
or not to create
[for the zine]
that
really isn’t a question at all.

when one has an endeavor
that one is excited about
that one wants to be
at least close to great
one will do it
and do it
proudly.

May 8, 2021

An Ode To The Nicknames We Give Our Animals.

A toast to Louka
The Goodest of Dogs
(The Stinkiest of Dogs)
The Silliest and Smartest
And Goofiest
Our Little Louka
Our LoukaLou
Our Loukaloukaloukalou-kah
Kalouah
Good Dog
Booboosousa
HassleDog
Louka

A toast to this Cat
Mowgli
The Mowgs of us all,
The Actual, OG, HassleAnimal
HassleCat
TrashCat
The Fluffiest
The Shed-iest
The Tubby Tum Tum
Mo-go-go-gali
mmmmmOOOWGLI
Stinkiest
Too Smart For Her Own Good
Mowgli

May 7, 2021

i wake up with wild fantasies
about the important poems i’ll write
contemplating complex rhythms
internal rhymes
looking forward to the times
when i can sit with pen and paper
[screen and keys]
and just
put it all out there.

and yet

when i am ready for the writing part
of my morning
i am hit with not only the absence of any important poetry
i cannot think of any subject matter
good enough to put into words.

and if i try to force it
(the important subjects, that is)
they churn in my mind
making zero connections
barely able to put into words
(much less gorgeous wordings)
my mind meditates
and spits out
‘racism
america
bad’
my thoughts
as a white person
of much privilege
[but not all]
could be important
for others of my similar privileges
but would it be worth it
when there are so many who still don’t have a voice?
and so my brain resets
and says
‘write another poem about candy
about the cat napping on your lap as you write this
about the silly things your autocorrect says
about the concept of writing poetry
anything silly and light.’
and my mind mulls again
‘i have a unique perspective
being in the middle
the crossroads of gender
(or maybe completely outside it)
always the observer
of societal mores
(which i always thought was morays)’
but once again my brain interrupts
and says
‘you can’t.
you’re too tired
sleepy
hungry
confused
distracted by this cat
can’t get into it
can’t get out of it
just write fluff
write fluff until your brain seeps
out
and you can maybe fill it
with important things
(that you may or may not actually remember)
once again.’

May 6, 2021

it’s ok
it’s ok
it’s ok to not write a poem just yet
about reframing the story
around death
to create closure.
this is ok
to sit with
in your heart
for a while
just you and your
thoughts/memories/emotions/
stories
living each day,
getting to know how to live
with closure
(even if it feels fake at first)

i know you don’t feel like you deserve
closure
acceptance
to go on
but remember
you were just a kid,
a damn kid,
it doesn’t matter if you think
every child is ‘truly innocent’
or not
they are children
their brains are not fully developed
they don’t know how to fully deal
with death
you
were just a child
your
brain was not fully developed
you
didn’t know how to fully deal
with death
with all that death
that loss
it doesn’t matter if you think you deserve closure
now
don’t you think you,
child you,
eleven and fifteen year old you
deserve some sort of
closure?
acceptance?
healthy relationship with self?

something?

May 5, 2021

wake up
it’s too early
check the email
see if there’s anything interesting
(even though it’s doubtful there will be)
check the facebook
(even though you know it’ll just suck you in
and stress you out)
try to do some crosswords
until they can lull you back to sleep
feel so tired
roll over
cuddle your spouse
feel even more awake than before
roll back over
wake up
it’s still too early…