Welcome To My Bed

This is more of an organizational thing for me but...

...I have a lot on my mind that I need to organize and you all get to see the thoughts un-knot themselves because typing into a blog window is the only way I can consciously turn off my filter and just think out loud. Okay. Here we go.

Since the beginning of my year-ish-long thesis project, I have said that the thing would happen in three parts. The first part was to be my novel. Novels are large and difficult to get along with (at least while writing them), so I gave that aspect most of the weight. The second two components are a poetry/essay collection about my relationship to language, along with a recording of selections from whatever writing I wanted to read aloud. The novel continues to be the main impetus for this project, but the other pieces refuse to pipe down about their importance. For example, my entire summer has been dedicated exclusively to the pursuit of poetry and its performance. I was on my first slam team, and I dealt with all of the joys (and equal pains) of that process. And then, suddenly, it was over. In the process of thinking a lot about the processes of how poems are born, how they grow to be the best they can be for the stage, and how the stage can best serve the poetry, I have had a lot of serious talks. Now that it is August, and all of the "official" poetry business is through, I have the tapes of these talks playing on loop in my mind. I hear myself, in echo, stating in various permutations, "the separation of the mind and body is what kills, or at least tortures, the artist" and "slam, for me, is the recombination of the mind and body for the poet" and all of it sounds pretentious and scholarly and detached from what I actually mean.

What comes from hearing these conversations repeating and repeating themselves to me is a compulsion to reason all of it out. To follow my logic wherever it takes me and write it all down--a transcript of a summer of thought, if you will. I think that I might need to do a series of interviews with my artist friends (especially those who are or have been involved in slam) to compile some data to bounce ideas off of. Which means I need a tape recorder. Which means I should probably go to the store and buy one.

I have made a list of topics. I will write a poem for each of these topics, then arrange the poems in a way that makes sense. I think this is how you make a poetic essay? (I am not good at remembering how to do real school things.) It will argue, in its final form, that my experience of slam is an approach that allows me to involved both my mind and my body in the writing process. Hmm. The idea seemed so much larger and more nebulous before I had it written down.

Everything is clear now. I must tell someone.