--Mg Roberts speaking about not wanting, or not being so invested in being categorized and avant-garde or experimental writer. She says this on the Friday interview series, Bhanu Kapil's blog. These women are my dear friends. To say I miss my friends is only a phrase. Is not a concept. As Disability, the body, bodywork, sex work, is not a concept. So if I avant-garde writing has to be conceptualism, that I can't to find myself as an oblong a writer either. Speech to text which is how I write these days, laying in the dark and speaking into my phone, speech to text translates avant-garde writer as oblong Rider either. My somatic counselor told me to sing, to keep singing, to work on singing. It seems the only way back in. I have moved to Florida where the idea of avant-garde writer. The idea of avant-garde writer. Does not exist. Except maybe for how Sabrina and I make it. Sabrina who is dear to MG, who washed up on this deserted island just a little while after me. Who is a poet also and has homesteaded in the southside of St. Petersburg very near me. Who know longer can live entirely in poetry either, but spend so much of her day is caring for the elderly and working at local markets. While I work in the skin trade of my own making/trying to create a culture that values consulting and counseling sans certification – – Florida is very attached to whether you have the certification or not – Ash around disability and sexuality. Sabrina and I make work, she writes but I don't. I write only invisibly into the intimate nervous system and then take banal notes in a binder just so I can remember what territory I mopped with each one of them. I limp a lot because the left ankle is destroyed but will carry me and I do very light work to save my spine and remaining eye. I don't leave the apartment very much, but when I do it is like stepping into the back of soft air. I came back to Florida to be not so worn down, to live the softest life. For my body. Which is also a desert island life. Which is a kind of the hardest work.
Saturday, September 26, 2015
I must begin to write things here again, because I need to have somewhere where I am transparent about my process, or I talk about poetry then, or I talk to my Poetry friends, where I am not a persona that makes me a small time underground economic success – Josh or I mean, it's fairly lucrative part-time job that allows me to lie down a lot.
"I’ve heard several young writers of color confuse conceptualism and experiment to describe the few writers of color writing in this vein and I just have to say: race is not a concept. To "
, where this blog lives now. because it can be read and posted to through that app, one-handed, on my back, by a body of water, or in the cool olive green light above my mattress. This is articulation my spine had not dreamed of before. Tweets by @thebodypoetik
My blog lived on Tumblr for a minute
because it is so much easier to access from my phone. fallinginrealtime.tumblr This is the feed. No, I don't like it. I can't add another virtual box. I'll make due with Twitter.