Now Playing: “Do I Do,” Stevie Wonder

Revised and sent off the poetry collection to a publisher this week. Cue the confetti! Fingers crossed…

While there are still a couple of poems that won’t behave in the book, I was pleased with how others shaped up. 

One of the poems, “Holy Floaties,” (shortened title), came to me while I was sitting at the cafe. It just landed on my shoulders. 

The first line was wry, a little pissed, a little amused, a lottle yearning. Then the rest came tearing out.

I finished it, had to stand, had to pace, couldn’t quit shaking.

I know that sounds dramatic, but the poem was. It is. It’s possessive, dictatorial, unrelenting, and demanding. So, not the usual me. 

I felt sick. Gutted. I wanted to run. (I make it a rule to sit with discomfort if at all possible when it comes to art; your muse won’t ask something of you that you can’t do. Or that’s my belief. Doesn’t mean it’s always easy.) 

I wrote the rest of it.

Oddly, no matter how many revisions I make to it, something still sounds off. Maybe that’s just the way it’s shaped. 

Ok, and this is really weird but I can only read it in this other voice I hear in my head, the same voice I heard when I first wrote it. (Don’t ask me to describe it, and also, I suspect the reason I heard it in another voice is that it’s an intense little poem. Hmmm…what if it’s WR’s voice? I just asked and she squeaked not her. I’m not saying I’m hearing voices, just an alternate narrator for this one, LOL. Spoiler: I suspect art is the narrator.) 

The other poem that is giving me fits is an expansion of one that decided to turn… unexpected.

Oh geesh…

I almost took it out of the collection, but then I reminded myself: I am a whole human being, not just my restless mind. Some parts of me speak in a different register, with a different light. It would be dishonest to pretend they don’t exist.

Also, Word Raccoon whistled at the title and said it is staying. 

Well, okay then. 

I suspect I will end up shifting the order of the poems before all is said and done. (Is there a special word for that? I really should break those poetry books out that are stacked on my desk. WR started clearing those porch shelves this morning so I think we really are going to end up with them there. Which makes me ridiculously happy.) 

Also, I’ve been listening to more audiobooks than I meant to: two finished, on my third. (Taylor Jenkins Reid’s latest was a whole Atmosphere, Ashley Flowers’ The Missing Half had me engrossed with its Indiana locations not too far from where I live, and the third? Too good not to talk about later, so stay tuned. You hear me?)

I don’t usually “read” with my ears, but when I’m doing poetry admin, it makes sense. Not my favorite way to take in a book, but it works. 

I also made cold tuna pasta salad for supper because we all need permission to make low-effort meals in this heat. Stay hydrated and take care of yourselves, duckies. 

Word Raccoon almost refused to go to the gym today but when I reminded her the hip is doing better she decided to take it for a spin. She was low-key impressed. Slow but steady. 

This may sound silly to brag about, but I put my right sock on just like my left today without having to contort my body. I was clapping happy! Here’s hoping it stays this way. Specialist appointment next week. (I know, right?) 

I tried to remember who taught me to put on socks to start with as a child, and all I remember is my little pink socks with white ruffles.

Now, about this Coke Zero situation. I’ve been trying to wean WR off her habit by ordering the store brand version. But somehow, when the groceries arrived, there were four bottles of Coke Zero instead. She swears this was divine intervention. I’m side-eyeing the universe, because this feels like a setup. Either way, the weaning plan is postponed, and the raccoon is now strutting around the kitchen like she’s won the championship, sparkling clogs and all.

WR’s little coffeehouse cameo earlier this week was… lively. She was so happy in those clogs there she nearly broke into a clog, the “you’d better be watching” kind, but decided to keep a little mystery instead. Mornings aren’t supposed to sparkle like that… Word Raccoon says it must have been the company.

As we were writing at the cafe, Word Raccoon swears she saw a gust of wind no bigger than the wave of a hand to relieve the heat, and yet it was enough to get her back to the page; she’s been replaying it, convinced it was her cue to smile back at the universe. 

You tell me what she means by that; sometimes she’s incomprehensible to me. 

As for writing, I have a list of poem ideas untouched at the moment. It’s only been a couple of days, maybe three, since I’ve written more than a nub of one but a tiny part of me is panicking but it’s kind of how Saturday night I tried to revise those poems in my collection and I just couldn’t because I have this “Wait, wait” mechanism in me which told me it wasn’t time and the next after it was “Okay, now.” 

Made the book deadline anyway, so whew. 

I kept reminding myself that art is not widget making, as inconvenient as that might be. 

When you show up, all kinds of good things happen. Makes the day brighter, too.

Or that’s my take, Babe. What’s yours?