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manifest press

when i was just out of high school and filled with angst i was so good at blogging every day. mind you, i was not so good at blogging, my earliest livejournal posts were full of heartfelt triteness, oversharing, words surrounded by *asterisks* for emphasis, and way way way too many ellipses (although even then i was sure to make them their “correct” three full-stop length). my obsessive blogging practice between the ages 18 and, say 23? really shaped me as a writer. i actually think that i learned more about recounting a story well through livejournaling than through any writing class i ever took. the last couple years of entries in my last livejournal are pretty damn good if you ask me.

but then i changed.

as i became more and more confident with my sincere voice, a voice that in no way resembles the blog posts i created in my livejournals (which, thank god, i finally deleted), i became less and less interested in blogging. more and more my livejournal became a place where very small group of very specific people who were far away from me kept up on my life, kind of like a public mass-email. my posts tapered from daily (sometimes 3 or 4 a day) to maybe 3 or 4 a week, then maybe 1 a week. i think the very last post on my last lj entry was probably about 3 months after the one that preceded it.

basically, i don’t know how to blog anymore. or, rather, i don’t know how to blog in a way that feels genuine to myself anymore, and yet at this moment i feel the need to figure that out because the blog platform is invaluable to me as a poet. the internet, for better or worse, has kept poetry alive for the last 15 years or so.

let’s face it, nobody buys poetry. ok, not “nobody,” geeks and poets buy tons of poetry, come to my house and i can show you the shelves full of poetry books i have, which are some of the only books i ever pay full price for. the general public, though, has absolutely no interest in poetry, and why should they? there are 3-d movies to see, and you know what else the internet has kept alive for the last 15 years? FREE PORN!

there’s a connection there just begging for analysis.

anyway, so i suck at keeping a blog now, but here is my second attempt (you can see the first one below, a false start, and to quote my own poetry: “once you false start it’s difficult to start”) and i feel like it’s cheating because it’s just about how much i still have to figure out.

this first semester at mills has been very difficult for me. having been wrenched away from my home and the context in which i’m used to writing i am still figuring out my new process. the book art end of my degree has been heavily emphasized this semester, and this is very new territory for me. i came to book art through writing, not visual art, and my process as a book artist is proving time consuming and. _________. it’s all still very cloudy.

there’s a lot more i could say. about the projects i’m working on now, about the connections i’ve made with people that are stimulating me, about the trials and tribulations of trying to find your self within a brand new program at a school that’s unfamiliar to you in a city that you barely know, but those are each separate blog entries, i think…i don’t want to blow my load so early.

don’t expect poetry on this blog. although i may share a snippet or two from time to time, i imagine this space as a place where i think about poetry and poetics as opposed to a platform for getting my work out there. i’d rather get my work into your hands. in a book. that i made.

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