there is something about a quiet moment in a frazzled life
that hits the right spot
it's almost as good as taking a swim in the ocean
on a hot summer day
it's just enough to remind me that there is space
to breathe deeply
i wrote to someone that my ex was making me
into a beautiful mess
she wrote back, "can you keep the 'beautiful' and dump the mess?"
ah, if it were that easy i would scarcely know what to do
with myself
the days are getting longer, the wind is getting milder
the changing of seasons is helping me crawl out of my shell
i've been hibernating too long and my body is ready to move again.
how do i know?
the muscles in my legs contract and relax...readying to spring into action
anticipating a run or a kick...waiting
how do i know?
i stretch and i stretch and i've yet to feel satiated by the action
perhaps a long sequence of yoga moves may help
my body screams for yoga...or karate...or swimming
my body screams to move fast/er
my body screams as i sit on this chair and write these passages
i woke up this morning wanting to be someone else
i woke up this morning wanting to be someone
i woke up this morning wanting to be
i woke up this morning wanting to
i woke up this morning wanting
i woke up this morning
i woke up this
i woke up
i woke
i
can you tell when i am lying?
is it the hesitation in my voice?
the lilt of my speech?
the avoidance technique?
can you tell me when i am lying?
i've built up the wall so high
that i've forgotten what i look like
past the rocky exterior
messy poetry is all that seems to come out lately
the words are random bits...issuing forth without an editorial eye
really i am just blank and empty
nothing in there
can you hear the echoes?
hello....(hello)....(hello)...(hello)
see what i mean?
i don't make this up
i seem to be running around
skirting the issue
and pinning me down
is like pinning mercury
isn't mercury toxic?
gasp...
pinning me down
is like holding water
in hand
mostly it's a trickling mess
i want to write...* hopping on one foot and then the other *
i want to write about stuff
about important stuff
about relevant stuff
but how do i pin down the experiences
when there are so many aspects to it
gathering sand one grain at a time
and feeling the impossibility of it riding up my spine.
i want to play
but i've forgotten how to
play...play...play...play
nope, nothing yet
if i say it enough
do you think it will come?
the reminder
the know-how
if i repeat the word
will it manifest in my life
if so, what will it look like?
and who will i play with?
hmmm how did i get here?
right, i was writing about writing stuff
bye...
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
03.30.09
The last couple of days have consisted of boxes, packing and unpacking, breaking down boxes and moving an apartment's worth of furniture into one room. Not possible. Not even close. So bits and pieces were dispersed to my generous sisters who helped me move. I already miss my penthouse studio in Inwood. Not that I don't appreciate having a safety net with my parents but having been independent for so long it's an adjustment.
That feeling of having to negotiate a space that is not necessarily yours. To navigate and reassess what will fit and not fit. Nooks and crannies, drawer-full of stuff, everything just seems to be stuffed to capacity and I'm feeling a little claustrophobic. Wait, not just a little. Sunday I could barely cope and quickly fell asleep for a cat nap. I thought I would sleep for an hour...instead I slept for four hours. I woke up feeling more myself. More grounded. More in my body. That's such a strange phrase...where else can one be but in one's own body, no?
I guess I was sleep walking through the day...people were talking to me and I could only hear scraps of conversation. I was having a Charlie Brown sort of moment, where they were talking and all I could hear was WAH WAH WAH WAH.
Ah well, it's Monday and I'm feeling out of sorts. Don't ask me why? I'm almost done unpacking. There is a research paper to be done. There is prose poetry to attempt...there is four weeks left of classes...perhaps it's the calm before the storm. And not sure I have the energy to get me through. All I can do is take one task at a time. But I can see the tidal wave on the horizon....gathering strength.
Hmmm, I can feel the contemplative face taking over. I want to sit in a quiet place and just gather myself up before class. I'd almost rather skip class tonight but I may need that absence for another night.
Off I go to find a quiet spot...to read...perchance to sleep.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
That feeling of having to negotiate a space that is not necessarily yours. To navigate and reassess what will fit and not fit. Nooks and crannies, drawer-full of stuff, everything just seems to be stuffed to capacity and I'm feeling a little claustrophobic. Wait, not just a little. Sunday I could barely cope and quickly fell asleep for a cat nap. I thought I would sleep for an hour...instead I slept for four hours. I woke up feeling more myself. More grounded. More in my body. That's such a strange phrase...where else can one be but in one's own body, no?
I guess I was sleep walking through the day...people were talking to me and I could only hear scraps of conversation. I was having a Charlie Brown sort of moment, where they were talking and all I could hear was WAH WAH WAH WAH.
Ah well, it's Monday and I'm feeling out of sorts. Don't ask me why? I'm almost done unpacking. There is a research paper to be done. There is prose poetry to attempt...there is four weeks left of classes...perhaps it's the calm before the storm. And not sure I have the energy to get me through. All I can do is take one task at a time. But I can see the tidal wave on the horizon....gathering strength.
Hmmm, I can feel the contemplative face taking over. I want to sit in a quiet place and just gather myself up before class. I'd almost rather skip class tonight but I may need that absence for another night.
Off I go to find a quiet spot...to read...perchance to sleep.
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Monday, March 23, 2009
03.23.09 Renee Gladman
In class tonight Renee Gladman poet and fiction writer came to talk to our class about her writing process. The discussion at the beginning was heady and abstract...needless to say I LOVED IT. I was furiously jotting down notes trying to keep up with the kind of discourse she was putting out. Some of it definitely went over my head...and I'm not going to try to pretend that I get it all yet...cause really she's in another league when discussing her thought process. She reminded me a little of Akilah Oliver because of the way in which she communicated some of these ideas. I want to write them down here to help unravel some of the entwined thoughts.
Renee talked about a relationship to language and how she has become more conscious of the potentiality of the moment of writing ....(my handwriting looks like chicken scratch...can't quite make out the rest of that sentence. ...) let me try this in a different way...
how in the impulse to write the thought there are infinite ways in which to convey/communicate the experience. But language...the translation of those thoughts onto the page turns into something narrow. We write in categories...in linear/logical ways while our thought patterns are more expansive than that.
Establishing a philosophy of time and experience.
The logic of the grammar tells you what to expect.
The logic of the content that can be in opposition.
The logic of the problem which can be ambiguous.
How can you get these three conditions to occupy the same space at the same time.
Can you gather the experience in the breadth of a sentence?
Conceptual way of thinking about narrative.
She creates a condition in the logical flow of the sentence is breaking down on the level of the content.
Prose as a place of experimental narrative
She is conscious of language and sound.
Brings you back to experiences
How do you grasp the experience and make it coherent.
What experiences are accumulated?
She enjoyed Henry James because he circles vague spaces.
He would write about things happening but difficult to pinpoint.
Present tense captures the ongoing-ness of being in the moment
and in the acting.
Being enacted as the narrative is unfolding.
What does prose breach that poetry does not?
Poetry as a genre is not interested in character or turth or lies...
that's not part of the discourse in poetry.
Fiction to be better needs to be more complicated.
The language has to be....
She likes translations of European fiction writers
because of the awkwardness and formality of the language.
Feels the writer interpret and re-envision
sound of translation
White space on the page is a way of framing the language
Part of the conception
Her narrators in her work tend to be slightly confused and on the periphery.
They embody that state of irresolution.
We went back to talking about how language narrows the experience.
You can only write one thing at a time...
However, if we were able to write 8 things at the same time this would approximate what the actual experience is truly like.
How do you translate the many things into one thing?
What does the order in which you tell it... tell you about the experience?
There is a lot more but this was at the core of what I wanted to record on this blog.
Because in these fragments of ideas that I was able to scavenge...something...clicked.
Something about this information gave me an A-HA moment about writing.
It hasn't quite sunk in yet....or it hasn't quite taken root...but.....
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
Renee talked about a relationship to language and how she has become more conscious of the potentiality of the moment of writing ....(my handwriting looks like chicken scratch...can't quite make out the rest of that sentence. ...) let me try this in a different way...
how in the impulse to write the thought there are infinite ways in which to convey/communicate the experience. But language...the translation of those thoughts onto the page turns into something narrow. We write in categories...in linear/logical ways while our thought patterns are more expansive than that.
Establishing a philosophy of time and experience.
The logic of the grammar tells you what to expect.
The logic of the content that can be in opposition.
The logic of the problem which can be ambiguous.
How can you get these three conditions to occupy the same space at the same time.
Can you gather the experience in the breadth of a sentence?
Conceptual way of thinking about narrative.
She creates a condition in the logical flow of the sentence is breaking down on the level of the content.
Prose as a place of experimental narrative
She is conscious of language and sound.
Brings you back to experiences
How do you grasp the experience and make it coherent.
What experiences are accumulated?
She enjoyed Henry James because he circles vague spaces.
He would write about things happening but difficult to pinpoint.
Present tense captures the ongoing-ness of being in the moment
and in the acting.
Being enacted as the narrative is unfolding.
What does prose breach that poetry does not?
Poetry as a genre is not interested in character or turth or lies...
that's not part of the discourse in poetry.
Fiction to be better needs to be more complicated.
The language has to be....
She likes translations of European fiction writers
because of the awkwardness and formality of the language.
Feels the writer interpret and re-envision
sound of translation
White space on the page is a way of framing the language
Part of the conception
Her narrators in her work tend to be slightly confused and on the periphery.
They embody that state of irresolution.
We went back to talking about how language narrows the experience.
You can only write one thing at a time...
However, if we were able to write 8 things at the same time this would approximate what the actual experience is truly like.
How do you translate the many things into one thing?
What does the order in which you tell it... tell you about the experience?
There is a lot more but this was at the core of what I wanted to record on this blog.
Because in these fragments of ideas that I was able to scavenge...something...clicked.
Something about this information gave me an A-HA moment about writing.
It hasn't quite sunk in yet....or it hasn't quite taken root...but.....
All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.
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