ive literally been in my room all day & didnt even notice it til my granny caught me gettin sumthin to eat in the kitchen.
'well, i didn't thank you was ever gon come down.'
i dont even notice that i dont do anything anymore. like im not even mad about not leaving the house when the world knows that im too fly to sit inside. i guess that's good cause it means i wont feel any noticible blues over this temporary situation, but it's pretty scary at the same time. when u stop bein mad about sumthin it means that u've accepted it. this aint no kinda lifestyle that i wanna accept.
but i remain optimistic. w/ erbody gettin new jobs to the left & right of me (i see yall) i figure maybe it's sumn in the air & whatever it is will drift toward the center and creep up my nostrilways and get to work. so ive got a grip of new jobs im gonna apply for & hope that this time they'll at least notify me to tell me they dont want me insteada havin me waitin & callin & emailin tryna figure what the fk im gettin slept on for.
bitches.
ive got a list of things i want/need to do.
at the top of that list was to burn all of my word files and pictures that i want to keep for the rest of my days to cds for when my computer dies again (and im almost positive that it will). so i did that today. i aint sayin im welcomin another digital armageddon, but im somewhat prepared for it this time around.
i emailed some lady from the creative writing program @ american university asking to be put in touch w/ a current CW student there, preferably black. i got 3 responses within the past week, one of which was inviting enuff to respond to. so im gonna do that.
im gonna put some honest, serious work into makin my resume not look like day-old shit stew smeared on a piece of computer paper and get it out to some more employers.
im gonna write a letter to michael moore. in my sporadic reading of 'stupid white men' i stumbled upon a chapter in his book called 'Nice Planet, Nobody home' that he opens with what i found to be some very offensive commentary on the South. i understand that it's posed to be humorous and help prove his point, but fuck that. my feathers hadnt been that flustered over this matter since i read Mencken my last semester @ transy. so im gonna write him a nice intelligent letter expressing my disgust. i also didnt completely appreciate his 'the end of men' chapter either, though he made some good pts. so im gonna tell him that too. and early in his book he says very plainly that any blk person reading his book who needs a job in the production/writing/publishing/movie makin/whatever business shld send him his resume.
and im damn sure gonna do that too. lol
in addition to writin that letter, i wanna do some real writing too. im so completely frustrated with myself and my fingers for not writing anything good anymore, man. im really startin to doubt myself. hard. im still almost sorta considering not studyin writing in grad school but makin women's studies my area of concentration. the best i can write recently is stupid, forced, cliched, corny ass poems that no one can possibly like. i be postin em on the freestyle boards @ okp for shits & giggles. it's a riot. those cats eat up whatever's posted, man. it's sad. no matter how bad the shit is, if u post under a name that no one recognizes the response is always 'mm, damn that was gripping' or 'yeah, man im feelin these lines here--' or 'brilliant. sheer genius.' yeah right.
but i know what its like to not have the heart/guts to tell someone that their poetry more or less sucks.
anyway
i havent completely given up on the writing thing. im gonna employ some writing exercises; awhile ago i started writing pieces for jimi hendrix's 'are u experienced' & im gonna work on finishin that up.
im also gonna try & write here more. i wanna make sure that i dont just shut down completely & let that closed door just rust shut.
im all outta stuff to type. ima go watch & recite austin powers 2.
