Tuesday, February 23, 2010

published works

When I was in high school, I had a poem published. It ended up in an anthology with something like 500 other young poets, like myself. THIS time, I'm older and I'm getting another poem published. I guess that technically makes me a poet, although I do not identify myself as any particular type of writer other than a writer, just. By that I mean, I just write things down. When I'm done, it could be a poem just as easily as it could be a play or a short story or a grocery list. I write down all sorts of things. Quotes, random thoughts, good ideas, bad ideas, musing...you know.
I've been lucky, because I've been able to not only hone inspiration from regular, every day life, but also from that mysterious place in the hollows of my body where all those literary-type thoughts are stored.

Hail, right brain!

I took this Modern Drama class in my last semester at uni (If you went to undergrad with me, now is time to note that this class was an English dept-Theatre class. I majored in Theatre and the Theatre dept-Theatre classes were much different than this one, trust me). My professor was really cool and very accessible, which made it really easy to get involved and to enjoy being involved, even though the class met from like 3-6p on Wednesdays. Anyway, the professor came in one day talking about all the other possibilities for opportunities within the department and a poetry submission came up.

I've written poetry, of sorts, all my life, so I was like, what the hell? I'll give her one of my poems. It can't hurt, right?

To rid you from my bones
with your cool electric, shivers
sent dancing down my spine,
would spare my dreams
from demon's nights of aching
alone, as an island. 

No more waiting for eyes
to nudge to us entwined. 
No more hypnotic lips
hugging words disguised
by secret nights...

But my old bones, creaking, 
love you to rattle them
when dim light slides through
cracks in the dark
and I melt from smoldering
so long
as your eyes make friction 
set to blaze. 

I prefer nightmares
when demons in the shadows
hiss in your voice
to make me move. 
© 2009 

"As an Island"

I graduated from school 10 days after I wrote this poem. Can you even believe that? I forgot all about giving it to her. I just remember that it was written on the front inside cover of my notebook (used esp. for jotting things down) and that something was like, "Yeah. Go ahead and do this."
It's been well over a year since and to be honest, I totally forgot all about even submitting it. Then, yesterday, all of a sudden, and I'm finding out that someone actually did read it and like it and they think other people will read it and like it, too. 

And suddenly, I don't feel bad for crushing out so hard on the guy who inspired me to write those words down. It makes me feel better knowing that I'm not half as bad as I thought and people who think like I do are everywhere. We're everywhere. Whew!
It's weird to say all of this now, because he's never read the poem (yet), and I'm pretty sure he didn't even know it existed, but maybe when it goes to press, I'll get him a copy of the book and mark my page so he can kind of use it as a map of my head. Or maybe it will make his skin crawl? I can't say for sure, because I don't really know. Either way, it's pretty nice to think that he's been immortalized in some small way, thanks, in part to me. As long as he knows that, I don't care so much of his opinion of the poem, itself. After all, I wrote this one for me, not him. He was just my muse. 

But then again, Robert Graves says a "male muse can't exist" He says, "a female poet must be her own muse, or she is nothing." and by definition, I suppose, by definition, he's right Musing is a feminine task.So...he inspired me to inspire myself then...I guess?? Oh, someone explain how this is supposed to work (or if Robert Graves was just some Victoriano war-poet with dated, sexist views on abstract concepts of the source of inspirations) * I think I just made up the term "Victoriano" but I like it and I think I will use it on the rare, but anticipated occasion when I have a reason to talk about some guys, any guy from the Victorian era).

Did I mention since my publisher is Cerise, it's going to be printed in French and English, which incidentally are my languages? I even get the option to do my own translation if I am worried about the integrity of the poem. Ha!

On the other side of it all, it is kind of weird thinking about reading those words in a book. Presumably along with many, many others. It's kind of scary to think something that personal is out there. Although, in general,  I do pretty much put myself out there. I mean, I don't think you can be an artist and not put yourself out there. You definitely can't be a model. Or an actor for that matter.  And since my particular skill set is narrow and rooted deeply in right-brained interests, I really don't have much of a choice.

I also got some cool shots last week for The Nashville Fashion Collective and House of Style.

this is the flyer for nfc. as you can see, my
hair looks amazing :)
There is going to be a cartoon of me, which will be very silly and have webisodes, from what I gather. It's going to look like this. Why? Because the people I know are crazy.

Plus, for House of Style I got some of the bi-bi-bi-bikini shots I did with Don McPeak, one of the FANTASTIC HOSPtn Photographers who usually does action photography. 

This particular photo shoot is for a charity swimwear calendar to benefit Wounded Warriors, a charity for wounded veterans from wars within the last 8 or so years. 

So..guess what I did? Yep. I dug out the American flag swimsuit so i could get the cover. 
I am a scoundrel ;).

I'll let you know if it worked. 

5 photographers shot me in this bikini for this calendar, so I imagine a lot of  these photos in different styles will be coming up over the next month or so. It was a whole day of shooting and I shot 3 looks with 5 photogs and pose coached from 8:30 to 3:00.

That was Saturday and I'm still tired. 

Okay, I love you.

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