Readers, let me not neglect you. Sometimes I use the random disparity of life as an excuse not to write. I mean, where does one begin? What will I write about today? When I try to write poems, I start with the general and try to work towards some emotion or situation that is distilled. But so often, the fabric of days is full of flotsam and jetsam, wholly miscellaneous.
Like when I smiled at my neighbour, Mylo, today. He does not know me but I know he is a record producer who is famous for making dance records from his pro-tool enhanced bedroom. He is so good at it, he is to produce Madonna's next album (allegedly). This might be Daily Record exaggeration, maybe not. Anyway, I sat in the sun on my doorstep and thought, there goes Mylo. Then I went inside and had beans and coleslaw for dinner as I felt too tired to cook. See what I mean, where's the poetry in that? Where does it all come together?
My wee niece, Maddy, was boasting to the librarian about how books were helping her become clever. Now I know all about dinosaurs and space and flying saucepans, she said.
More soon. We must chat more often.
-C
3 comments:
Hi
It is an ongoing process explaining to my little girl (aged 7) that Mummy kind of does have a job...the poetry...just don't tell any of your friends (their Mums will think me even weirder than they already do). The day before yesterday she asked us 'so are poets like normal people?' What do you say to that! Well, yes and no and lots of rambling...and then a yes.
Have nearly lost few remaining marbles recently spending too much time sucked into my space infinity. Is there still a real world out there. Ah, yes where the normal people are.
Bye.
RF
Hi rachel,
what a lovely commment. I have poetry guilt as I haven't written any for about a year! Ah well, ce sera sera...
-C
No doubt it is all just working away inside you and will come out soon as the 'faultless second volume from CMacL...etc'.
Look forward to reading it when it does.
Yours
Demented non-housewife
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