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30DIC Day 26: Yellow Smog

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Ahhhhhhahaha...what's up my people? So, I had to go to the doctor today (just a follow-up on a med change...no biggie), which was kinda scary only in the "I had to wait 45 minutes after my appointment time to be seen" kind of way, which, if you have ever seen a doctor before for any sort of reason, you know that this is standard operating procedure. It doesn't bother me because: 1) basically I barely give a shit about anything; 2) my schedule right now is amiable to things like this, where I can devote the entire day to something if I damn well feel like it; and 3) I come prepared and bring a book to read.

I'm currently reading You, Too, Could Write a Poem   by David Orr, a poetry critic/columnist for the New York Times. It's an interesting read, learning what people think about poetry because they're paid to give their opinions and impressions of it...it's like writing prose inspired by poetry, or some haughtier way of speaking in poetics or something. Anyway, fascinating book so far...and I came across this nugget I sorta feel like I hafta share with y'all, cuz I like you...

"Or you pass through a black and cobwebbed forest to find a city sparkling with clockwork. The inhabitants are inventors. Their first projects were simple tools designed to assist the memory (the abacus, for instance, and an assortment of color-coded blocks). Then they began attempting to reproduce the sounds and shapes of animals, most notable in the form of mechanical birds that could sing the time of day with shattering poignancy. Eventually the inhabitants started tinkering with their own flesh, replacing limbs with pistons and vocal cords with nets of steel mesh. The progression will conclude until the inhabitants have separated themselves entirely from their bodily heritage, at which point they will be indistinguishable from the miles of machinery that surround them." -David Orr, You, Too, Could Write a Poem

What's amazing about this, to me at least, is he's not talking about some dystopian future and the fate of the universe; he's talking about the state of poetry and how much it's changed in the last, I dunno, let's say 100 years just to have a number, and what it could potentially be in another 100 years. You have to understand also that I ripped that section of the book from one chapter titled "Volta -The State of Contemporary American Poetry: An Allegory". So now you're wondering to yourself "Norb, WTF does this hafta do with anything??" I got you fam; sit back and let me tell you.

I made it home from my appointment and got the images ready to post for the "Invalid Item" ...and the one I chose for myself to use today was of a city. Most likely New York City if we're assuming that's the Statue Of Liberty in the center (you'll see the pic in a minute; hold your damn horses ) in a sort of abstract/surreal cityscape shot with a balanced skyline. I'm affected most I think by two things in this world: 1) The more things change, the more things stay the same; and 2) I'm pretty much desensitized now to basically everything. Everything. Murder, psychopaths, weirdos, the Trump administration...the world has turned into a sick game of trying to one-up the batshit crazy the last person dropped off, and I tuned out a long, long time ago. My friends, I do not have time for that  .

And that's where today's poem comes in. As much as shit changes, it's still the same. Whether it's good or bad. The people we're supposed to be trusting, and maybe do trust, aren't worth a damn. The institutions we need to hear from have gone silent and boarded up the doors and windows. People will gladly shower in piss if it comes out of certain dicks. That's the truth, whether you refuse to see it or not. It's there. It's always been there. And yet it doesn't seem to scare the people who actually in reality probably should be scared the most. It was America in 1862, 1919, 1945, 1970, and it's America today. Put another coat of paint on it and everyone'll think it's brand spankin' new.

Yellow Smog

The truth is, I never know
anymore if we're at war
or not. The skyline
always seems like a plain statement
either way; one you don't get
from where you think you should.
Instead it's like we're all happier
getting tortured for our needs
and bleeding faith for relief
that comes as illusion. We're
only gonna wind up
seeing what we see through,
if there's anything at all
to believe.

         "Yellow Smog"  from "Also Mutants" .

It gets tiring, it really does, hearing people try to defend themselves over their irresponsible choices. And I should know...I'm a habitually poor decision-maker! But when you hear lie and spin and denial and then defense, all in that order, from powers that be and those put in position by those powers, it's not only disappointing but it's disconcerting...and that doesn't even take into account the average human being who now feels empowered because in a 50/50 guess he or she picked the right answer and now feels like they won the Racist Olympics. And what's even more fucked up is that now when we say "average person", it's no longer the mean...it's more like whatever the middle was, minus 37%.

"Willful Suspension Of Disbelief"   -Modest Mouse

"It's all so plain; it's all a plan.
It's all so plain to most everyone."

Hey! This month's "Invalid Item"  came out this morning! Did we do a good job? Bark loudly over at the "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Forum"  and tag your editors with questions, comments, concerns, or general admiration. And if you have no clue what I'm talking about (again ), get yourself some over here: "Blogging Bliss NL Subscription Request" .

Also hey! So, I signed up about a week and a half ago to take on "a very Wodehouse challenge" ...and my last, final, get-this-done-and-get-a-prize task is to do a little write-up on what I learned. Here's the deets y'all...as you may or may not know, the purpose of Wodehouse is to get you out of your comfort zone and try new things, more or less. The genre I was given to work on was Horror . Now, before I go any further, let's talk for a minute about our relationship...you and I. How did we come to meet on here? Maybe it was through blogging way back in the day, as I have been told sorta often I'm pretty nice with that. Perhaps more recently it's been through poetry, which after many years and stops and starts has finally gotten me some love. Could be that you've seen me on one of the many WDC Live   broadcasts. Whatever the case, you do not know me for writing short stories, or anything in the Horror/Suspense genre. But guess what? I finally, after almost 16 years () of WDC usage, I finally have a legit bona fide short story in my port: "Painted Rock" . And I entered it in "SCREAMS!!!" , which is totally something I never would've done on my own. Also, for the first time ever, I did some Product Reviews...I've seen them around occasionally, but never actually knew how to go about doing one for WDC or having to tag one. And it's funny whenever I do see someone with a product review tagged in their blog entry or newsfeed post or whatever...I immediately assume my ad-block didn't catch something or I need to run that opt-out software thing from the Digital Ad Alliance that cleans up all the ad-tracking shit so you don't get so many banner ads and obnoxious garbage on regular random websites. But anyway...yeah, product reviews...they're a bit tedious, but also kinda fun, like answering a survey. In doing that, I found I had to struggle just to come up with products I've used that could be classified as "horror" ...I don't really watch movies, and when I do they're usually comedies, so I had to dig deep into my vaults to come up with stuff. Same with books...I don't really read horror. Also, and this is big: "horror" is probably now my most misspelled word ever. I can't tell you how many times I've typed horrow...so many, that my fingers now hit that w at the end and automatically my right pinky goes to the backspace key while the other hand finds the correct r. It's ridiculous...I apparently cannot type the damn word. Maybe my muscle memory remembers double-r words like "tomorrow" and that's just what I know so that's what I do. How weird is that? And finally, I probably say this every time I do more than two reviews at a time, but I kinda enjoy reviewing and I know I don't do it enough but it's really a fun experience, especially when someone appreciates you taking the time to help them out a little bit. A good review can go a long way...not just for the person you're reviewing, but for you as well. And with that my brothers and sisters, I have completed my first attempt at the Wodehouse Challenge! Thanks to iKïyå§ama , who does a kickass job coordinating the whole thing for the participants and their challengers, and to the people who set up the challenges and take the participants almost on a virtual tour of parts of WDC you might not be nearly as familiar with as you are your own little hollowed-out nooks and crevices...my spots are so worn in, like a fresh pair of your favorite jeans and a thick ol' hoodie, so it was definitely awesome getting around and seeing how other groups and forums run, as well as experiencing different genres. I will definitely be looking to sign up again after it comes back from hiatus (and I wait my turn ).

And finally, since you and I both know this entry has gone on for far too long tonight, have yourself a bunch of spooky, scary two-sentence stories  . And maybe sleep with the lights on tonight .

Alright you meddling kids  ...I've got some editing to do here, and some submitting to do there, and some posting over yonder, and maybe- just maybe- I'll get away with going to bed at a semi-reasonable hour tonight (and hope I don't wake up any sooner than I need to in the morning). Peace, you're digging up, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!