Sometimes it’s good to do warmups to actually get ready to create. Sometimes it’s good to do them in the middle of a project, when you get stuck and need to think of things in a new way. Sometimes its god to do them because you’re bored on the bus and can’t do anything more involved. Sometimes it’s good to do them just because.
Here is my latest blackout poem. What does it mean? Is it good? Is it art? Was it worth doing? Was it worth sharing? Man, Y’all are asking all the wrong questions.
Red swing, and the first sizeable chunk o’ life relentlessly parade in line and out. Cowboy, someone has still unfinished form. Inside the new, still never easy- is where the real is. Parody everything. Spin during dazzling classics. Anchor the role. Recall cameos. Duel choice. Fix. Fix. Together it’s more and less than, but never less than.
1. There are four seasons: Spring, Summer, Pumpkin Spice Latte Season and Hibernation
2. Finding clumps of scales in the shower drains
3. The Illuminati
4. Having no control over your internal body heat
5. Controlling the Liberal Media
6. Controlling the Conservative Media
7. Waiting for snakeskin purses to come back in style
8. Trying to take over the world when you are too busy watching cute animal videos
9. Being the only ones who know whose backs will be the first against the wall when the revolution comes
10. The pain of wanting to have on fleek eyebrows even though you don’t have any actual eyebrows
There are two sentences I try not speak aloud. There are two sentences that I don’t even dare write directly down. There are two sentences that tell the story of who I am, or at least the parts of me that I carefully guard. These sentences will change the way people think of me, will make me so easy to dismiss: I know because they have so many times before. This is a story about one of those sentences.
This sentence is especially terrible to write down because I have been looking for full time employment for a long time, and I know employers will look at my online presence. I encourage them to. I want them to see how well I write, how creative I am. I am proud of the stuff that I write. I will be proud of this, even though I am terrified.
The summer before I went to college, I finally received an answer to why I was so different than everyone else: I have Asperger’s syndrome- one little speck on the Autism Spectrum.