sudden sillies
pop as classical radio
chatting with the spouse
singing at the spouse
dancing at the spouse
after writing/editing/posting so many things
dealing with depression
how can my goofiness
still show itself
this fiercely?
writing
June 4, 2021
i think
i put things off
as a way to prove
that i am,
in fact,
a horrible person.
i am aware
that technically
this issue
stems directly
from depression:
‘executive dysfunction’
but that doesn’t stop me from observing myself
outside in
seeing the things i put off
the things i actually do
and making an educated guess.
and yes,
of course,
the depression absolutely affects the way(s) in which i view myself
and not only would i not have this executive dysfunction
if i didn’t have the depression
i also wouldn’t have such a low opinion of myself
but somehow i’ve decided that the two are linked
and that the effect is the cause, and the cause is the effect
because i can’t just see it as simple brain chemistry,
a result of this battle that’s been raging
in my brain
for years
that would be too easy
too simple
and it takes the blame off of my choices and actions
it puts those things out of my control
and if there’s one thing i have more of
than depression/anxiety
it’s control issues
so
instead
i’ve decided
that my executive dysfunction is not this ‘hard-to-quantify
direct mis-firing of neurons
in my brain’,
but instead it stems from my self-esteem
and my desire to be a good person
but ‘knowing’
deep down
that i am the actual worst
my worthlessness showing up
in my inactions
and that way i can blame my depression
as well as my whole sense of self.
June 3, 2021
i’ve now been writing for a little more than a month and a half
and i just started posting like a week ago
it’s definitely given me a perspective
i didn’t expect…
confidence
in old poems
re-reading large poems
with big concepts
assuming i’d need to edit/adjust/revise
before wanting to post them
but feeling like they are whole
already.
i still don’t know what this actually means
for my skills
in poem-making,
if i’m still stuck in the black and white view of
good or bad
first draft comes from the heart/soul/gut
so any changes will be disingenuous
so just post it
as is
(but
what if
i’m not unlocking
my true potential from
within)
(or
am i simply
avoiding
what i know will turn into
obsessive
obsession
for making it perfect
when poetry
thrives
in
imperfection?)
~~~
is there another poem inside me
today
this morning
is there something else i need to get out
another concept to contemplate
another topic to purge from my soul
another thought, barely formed, scratching at the corners of my mind?
really
what i’m thinking this morning
is
it’s so dreary out
and i have so much to do
and my head hurts like crazy
and all my body wants to do is nap
and all i want to do is find any motivation
anything
at all.
~~~
and yet
(and yet)
i’m actually super stoked about posting?!?!
May 30, 2021
due dates
coming up
deadlines
when are they?
i feel in my gut
june 1st
(but also
maybe
may 30?)
the problem with thinking
“maybe apply to this,
maybe not…”
is that i don’t have a solid
“do this by this time”
i just have a vague
reminiscence
idea
memory
of a date and a thing
and nothing solid
(and nothing gets applied,
because i can never remember
any
specifics)
~~~
there are still poems swirling around in my head
that i feel i should make something out of
this storm in my psyche
but even when i write it out
the tempest is still there
and does that mean i’m never actually done pondering that subject matter
or does it mean that i can’t get everything into a poem that i could in prose
or does it mean that i’ll never ever capture my thoughts fully into words?
~~~
clean up
post
transform to lower case
post
read over quickly
post
decision
post
decision
post
decision
post
(is the posting taking the fun out of poetry?)
(or at least the honesty?)
May 26, 2021
writing
posting
editing
sharing
there is a different me that comes out
whenever i start to edit and actually do things
(but, again, is that the real me?
is there only one true real me?
are all these hjs part of the one true hj?)
and that’s why i get so freaked out
with the internet and social media
because it only really allows for one of you,
when truly
everyone is made up of so much:
their thoughts and feelings
their past and memories
their response to trauma
their response to non-trauma
any mental illness(es) they may (or may not) have
their likes
and loves
and dislikes
and hates
the people who raised them
the people they raised
the people surrounding them
the people they’ve stopped attaching themselves to
their schooling
their education
(because those are two separate things)
their hobbies and interests
the things they do when they’re bored
the dreams and hopes and aspirations
and even as i list these things
even if i were able to list all the things i could think up
in words and analogies and metaphors and phrases
it still wouldn’t be enough
because,
though i do love to complain about them,
humans are beautiful and complex creatures,
and they can never be summed up
in words;
the ineffable beings,
the infinity of selves,
they (we) all hold inside.
May 23, 2021
i feel so disconnected from myself
but i’ve had so many selves over the past 27+ years
am i disconnected from all of my selves
or just the most recent?
(because if we’re being brutally honest,
this is pretty close to the self that i had in late high school/early college,
complete with internal struggles
and external outbursts
and not connecting with anyone the way i might have wanted
or needed)
but i can’t place my finger on what’s different…
is it that i have better coping mechanisms?
is it that i have kip?
is it that i have beings to care for?
(and even then, there’s something stale and over-done in all of this,
even within the difference…)
i feel that need for a change,
the way i only get when i’m frustrated and groping for something to hold on to.
this would be the perfect time to get that tattoo;
i’ve been pondering it for the last five years,
so it wouldn’t be a stupid/rash/spontaneous decision
but it would probably fulfill my urges towards self harm
(but in a healthier way, and isn’t that what we want?
we can’t necessarily get rid of all our coping mechanisms
but we can choose the healthier[est] of the options…)
what i want
more than anything
is to be a kid again
to explore the woods behind our property
and feel like i have no expectations on me,
feel like i still have my entire life ahead of me,
because, damn, i’ve felt like most of my life has been over
since i was fifteen/sixteen,
and it hasn’t been true yet,
so why do i keep acting like it is.
May 21, 2021
should i still be aiming for a word count
if my goal is simply a kind of getting in touch with my creativity
my brevity
my word choice
my ability?
going through poems the other day,
in a frenzy to organize my most disorganized thoughts,
gave me the reminder that i once wrote five hundred words
easily
in one poem
my structure was simply
get the thought out
ponder it
in poem form
use the words
sparingly
but still explore
within words
what the concept means to me
do i not do that anymore?
or was the long form a new addition to the creative family
taking up residence in my brain?
kipventures poetry started out as shorter form,
some days only one to three lines
describing a whole adventure in a strange new place
so…why does nothing feel that familiar anymore?
should i explore what this family of creatives does
in my head?
or is that a one-off concept
simply useful for that singular line
and
(ope, another random memory
this time the apartment kip and i shared
in that house
in Pittsburgh
[what is it with Pittsburgh
recently?]
the sunlight streaming in through the attic bedroom windows
the weird mirrored closet doors
driving around
five below
dunken donuts vegan bacon on bagel breakfast sandwiches
that whole summer
stressful
and yet
such good memories)
what even was i talking about?
i went off on another tangent
in my brain
of when kip and i were first together
mowgli hadn’t even been born yet
but louka was living her
hard dog life
(in dog jail, if the stories are true)
and how do/will i feel about that?
if we do end up being able to adopt
and our baby is already born as of right now
am i going to look back on this time and think
‘i was so privileged, and our baby was so not,
what was i doing enjoying my life
while our baby was in trouble?’
but i can’t know that now
there are too many possibilities
to ponder
i know this is the anxiety
but it also feels like the worst super-power;
i can imagine and contemplate and see all paths,
past, present, future,
the possibilities endless
and they are all in my
stupid human brain
the insurmountable number
being
what makes my brain
damn near explode
(maybe i am super-human
simply from being able to hold all those possibilities
without any sort of fiery
boom,
but who knows;
it’s building up
it could happen
any day
now…)
May 19, 2021
my brain
(and bod)
are doing better than they were
the shaking and jittering
the depression and hopelessness
the overly-energized listlessness
are all but gone
but echos remain
and remind me of
whatever the fuck that was
that drove me damn near insane
(or, at least, reminded me of that time
my sanity was not quite a certainty)
and certainly
i’m still careful
traversing on the tiniest of eggshells,
wishing that the weight of what happened last week
would give me fodder for effortless poems
beautiful language
pleasing sounds in my mouth and ears and eyes
(and a sudden reminder of church lock-ins long since past
passes my eyes in a blink
and after being gone
in Pittsburgh, i think, was that particular church,
in less than a second
i’m back)
the creativity i used to have
isn’t gone
it’s just a little bit
changed.
(i mean,
yeah i wrote five million slam-poem-beginnings in high school,
but when did i write a whole ass novel?
that’s right, this year, damnit!)
May 18, 2021
i guess i could…
use my morning pages time
to read and edit and rewrite and post
all the poems that have come thus far ?
maybe?
~~~
quietly track the purring
in rhythm with the caffeine beats
thumping [softly] out of these
shitty laptop speakers
the aesthetics you always thought you’d have
you surpassed with unexpected privilege
leaving you with the existential question
why?
~~~
and unrelatedly
why
does organizing
make me feel so much better?
.
. .
. . .
(i know why;
it’s because my brain is the opposite of organized.)
May 16, 2021
i want to do
something
with all these poems
posting them seems the best option
but also
i’m scared.
i’m scared of people seeing them
i’m scared of no one seeing them
i’m scared i’ll succeed
i’m scared i’ll fail
i’m scared of so many things
(when did i get so scared?)
~~~
creativity
breeds
creativity
depression
breeds
depression
just keep that in mind.
~~~
oh
when did i start writing
for me?
kipventures 