All the News That's Shit to Print (or at least a heap of it)
It's time, I guess, for a real blog. When I think of a "real" blog, I mean an actual diary entry, a log of sorts that's published on the web - you know, a web log. That's how I started out, way back when (less than two years ago when I started blogging regularly on MySpace). Then people started reading me - which led to a certain level of self-consciousness. By the end of last year, I'd had around six number one blogs (and several number twos) in a few different categories on MySpace - a feat I'm not sure why I continue to mention (maybe because it makes me sound successful or important, which strikes me as somewhat pathetic). I knew to mix it up a bit, offer a little something for everyone, read (and especially comment on) a lot of other people's blogs (they would tend to reciprocate), and reply at length to folks' comments (which kept them coming back to see my responses, hence increasing my blog views and helping push me up the top blog charts). That's not the only reason I responded at length, however. I genuinely liked a lot of the people I met through blogging, and enjoyed the discussions on numerous topics.
I brought to blogging the survival skill I learned in prison (where I eventually led dialogue groups and taught conflict resolution - something else I feel compelled to disclose to you now because it makes me sound succesful or important, and might help neutralize in some folks' minds the fact that I was an inmate). The skill was to mediate conflict and get people to engage in dialogue by myself taking either neither side or both sides of every issue. I came to see this as a virtue, since nothing is ever totally black or white, every coin has two sides, and all issues are multi-dimensional - when we look at things solely from one limited angle, we do so at our peril. But I rarely revealed how I actually felt about anything, unless I was fairly confident that most folks who read my blog would agree with me. I'm better about that now. But I still worry far too much about pleasing everyone, which sometimes leads to me spreading myself so thin that I end up pleasing no one entirely, least of all myself.
Where am I going with this? I'm not quite sure. I should be writing a blog about last night's poetry benefit for the Sudanese Lost Boys. I told Michael Salinger I'd write something about it for the Cleveland Poetics blog (http://clevelandpoetics.blogspot.com), and include some of the photos I took there. I will do so. But when I attempted to do it this morning, my laptop kept freezing up while I was trying to upload the photos - and just as I was getting a bit frustrated, the four dear grandchildren who are living with us now (ages 6, 5, 4 and 3) got up and prevented me from completing a train of thought longer than 30 seconds. When their mom finally got up, I left the house for a while, visited my mom who's battling some sort of winter cold, picked up the sweet potato pie she made me and the blackberry pie she bought for Geri, then came home. Once again the photos would not upload - and then the lithium batteries in my camera died. The replacements I thought I had stashed away were apparently appropriated by the children for some toy. And I didn't much feel like going back out into the cold to buy batteries, especially when my wife would be going to the same store when she got off work tonight. So I decided to let the Lost Boys blog wait for tomorrow (I warned Salinger it might take a few days anyway) and added another T.S. Eliot piece to the Crisis Chronicles Online Library.
By the time I was done, I had puppy shit to clean up. The dog had eaten something resembling rope (I think it was part of her blanket). First it bound her up, then diarrhea came out around it, and finally strand-filled hard poop came out. Problem is, it didn't all come out, so she was running around the house with a turd hanging out of her ass by a string - and the children were chasing her. So I got her outstide and she tried to poop it out, rub it off, and grab it with her teeth, all to no avail - and finally I had to get hold of her and pull the stringy shit out of her butt myself. Then I came in to discover 6-year old Marcus had had diarrhea so bad it somehow made its way up his pajamas to his chest. His mom cleaned that up while I washed the dog bed. And somehow in the process I lost my appetite for the sloppy joes Rose had made.
I'm leaving a lot out, but you get the idea. There's all kind of stuff to write about and there's always someone (even if it's just me) who doesn't want me to write about it. That's why my blog is sometimes the non-blog it is. And somehow, though I have in the last year gotten a bit more fearless about expressing strong opinions here, I realize I'm still not giving it all up, so to speak. Perhaps that makes me a fake on some level. But I take consolation in the fact that I'm by no means the only one. And who wants to hear about this shit anyway? I've got a lot of good writers reading my blog now and I want to look professional, want to show my right profile (as opposed to my wrong profile), and get their attention. But hey, this isn't a newspaper or a magazine or even a résumé, though I sometimes treat it as such. It's a blog (I almost said "fucking blog," but is it really having sex?). So this entry might shatter some illusions. It's not well thought out (and I'm not trying to avoid sentence fragments or ending sentences with prepositions like "out"). It's not even inspired, consistent, or perhaps even coherent. It's just a stream of my thoughts. And sometimes I think if I can't just say what I want - and art or artifice be damned - then why write at all? But there's plenty of drivel to read in plenty of places. Why would anyone but my closest friends and family want to read mine as well?
No editing, little thinking... I'm just rambling. This is a "real" blog? I think they're all real, actually - though this entry might REveAL things that most of my blog entries wouldn't dare reveal. Hell, folks might even find this an interesting change of pace. But I suspect their interest would wane if this type of entry became the rule instead of the exception.
Meanwhile, I'm intentionally avoiding telling you anything about last night's event - I'll save that for tomorrow, when I'm less distracted, and for the Cleveland Poetics blog (though Salinger said he won't mind if I post it here as well). I have to leave you with something to look forward to....
Perhaps there are far too many photos of me online already anyway. But I feel rather naked not posting a photo with this blog. So here's a previously uploaded one (only posted on Facebook) that Dianne Borsenik took of me in the parking lot after a Deep Cleveland poetry reading on 8/8/2008 in Strongsville. If you've seen the Beavis and Butt-head movie, you know what I'm trying to say here. "I am Cornholio! I need TP for my bung hole! Are you threatening me?" It can all be peace and poetry... if you look at it the right way.
I brought to blogging the survival skill I learned in prison (where I eventually led dialogue groups and taught conflict resolution - something else I feel compelled to disclose to you now because it makes me sound succesful or important, and might help neutralize in some folks' minds the fact that I was an inmate). The skill was to mediate conflict and get people to engage in dialogue by myself taking either neither side or both sides of every issue. I came to see this as a virtue, since nothing is ever totally black or white, every coin has two sides, and all issues are multi-dimensional - when we look at things solely from one limited angle, we do so at our peril. But I rarely revealed how I actually felt about anything, unless I was fairly confident that most folks who read my blog would agree with me. I'm better about that now. But I still worry far too much about pleasing everyone, which sometimes leads to me spreading myself so thin that I end up pleasing no one entirely, least of all myself.
Where am I going with this? I'm not quite sure. I should be writing a blog about last night's poetry benefit for the Sudanese Lost Boys. I told Michael Salinger I'd write something about it for the Cleveland Poetics blog (http://clevelandpoetics.blogspot.com), and include some of the photos I took there. I will do so. But when I attempted to do it this morning, my laptop kept freezing up while I was trying to upload the photos - and just as I was getting a bit frustrated, the four dear grandchildren who are living with us now (ages 6, 5, 4 and 3) got up and prevented me from completing a train of thought longer than 30 seconds. When their mom finally got up, I left the house for a while, visited my mom who's battling some sort of winter cold, picked up the sweet potato pie she made me and the blackberry pie she bought for Geri, then came home. Once again the photos would not upload - and then the lithium batteries in my camera died. The replacements I thought I had stashed away were apparently appropriated by the children for some toy. And I didn't much feel like going back out into the cold to buy batteries, especially when my wife would be going to the same store when she got off work tonight. So I decided to let the Lost Boys blog wait for tomorrow (I warned Salinger it might take a few days anyway) and added another T.S. Eliot piece to the Crisis Chronicles Online Library.
By the time I was done, I had puppy shit to clean up. The dog had eaten something resembling rope (I think it was part of her blanket). First it bound her up, then diarrhea came out around it, and finally strand-filled hard poop came out. Problem is, it didn't all come out, so she was running around the house with a turd hanging out of her ass by a string - and the children were chasing her. So I got her outstide and she tried to poop it out, rub it off, and grab it with her teeth, all to no avail - and finally I had to get hold of her and pull the stringy shit out of her butt myself. Then I came in to discover 6-year old Marcus had had diarrhea so bad it somehow made its way up his pajamas to his chest. His mom cleaned that up while I washed the dog bed. And somehow in the process I lost my appetite for the sloppy joes Rose had made.
I'm leaving a lot out, but you get the idea. There's all kind of stuff to write about and there's always someone (even if it's just me) who doesn't want me to write about it. That's why my blog is sometimes the non-blog it is. And somehow, though I have in the last year gotten a bit more fearless about expressing strong opinions here, I realize I'm still not giving it all up, so to speak. Perhaps that makes me a fake on some level. But I take consolation in the fact that I'm by no means the only one. And who wants to hear about this shit anyway? I've got a lot of good writers reading my blog now and I want to look professional, want to show my right profile (as opposed to my wrong profile), and get their attention. But hey, this isn't a newspaper or a magazine or even a résumé, though I sometimes treat it as such. It's a blog (I almost said "fucking blog," but is it really having sex?). So this entry might shatter some illusions. It's not well thought out (and I'm not trying to avoid sentence fragments or ending sentences with prepositions like "out"). It's not even inspired, consistent, or perhaps even coherent. It's just a stream of my thoughts. And sometimes I think if I can't just say what I want - and art or artifice be damned - then why write at all? But there's plenty of drivel to read in plenty of places. Why would anyone but my closest friends and family want to read mine as well?
No editing, little thinking... I'm just rambling. This is a "real" blog? I think they're all real, actually - though this entry might REveAL things that most of my blog entries wouldn't dare reveal. Hell, folks might even find this an interesting change of pace. But I suspect their interest would wane if this type of entry became the rule instead of the exception.
Meanwhile, I'm intentionally avoiding telling you anything about last night's event - I'll save that for tomorrow, when I'm less distracted, and for the Cleveland Poetics blog (though Salinger said he won't mind if I post it here as well). I have to leave you with something to look forward to....
Perhaps there are far too many photos of me online already anyway. But I feel rather naked not posting a photo with this blog. So here's a previously uploaded one (only posted on Facebook) that Dianne Borsenik took of me in the parking lot after a Deep Cleveland poetry reading on 8/8/2008 in Strongsville. If you've seen the Beavis and Butt-head movie, you know what I'm trying to say here. "I am Cornholio! I need TP for my bung hole! Are you threatening me?" It can all be peace and poetry... if you look at it the right way.
Thank you for being so real finally. It is refreshing to know all this trivia and detail about your day instead of the usual
so I give you kudos for just being you as
more than a scholar, a poet and a writer.
We've all been through days like yours....
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Thanks, Elena! Lately, this type of day has been the rule rather than the exception. But I keep reminding myself of William Carlos Williams' words about order or creativity emerging from chaos (though I still can't recall the exact quotation).
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That photo still cracks me up (heh-heh-heh-heh, she said "cracks", heh-heh-heh)! Great blog, JC; I read parts of it out loud to James, who has had similar experiences with our dog. I've never found your blogs to be less "real" or "unprofessional", just because they've gone off on one tangent or another. They've all been fascinating and informative and a record-of-what's-happening-now and a promise-of-more-to-come. So keep 'em comin', JC... whatever you want to write about is fine with me. I'll be here, reading them. (And I'm looking forward to the write up about the Sudanese Lost Boys reading. Hope you can get those photos uploaded soon!)
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Thanks, Dianne! Will try the upload again this morning.... The ones of folks at the mic turned out a bit dark because of the way most of the light came from behind them - but there were some gems among the not-at-the-mic photos.
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I agree with Smith. Just please yourself and forget pleasing others. It gets you nowhere. Since I have never gone to your poetry readings for months now I guess these blogs are really for those who attend. Interesting but remote if not actually in attendance. Perhaps I'll get to one later on this winter. I also have poetry as you well know.
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Geezzz.. all I can say is I hope every day isn't like this!!!
I laughed out loud and almost snorted my tea when you got the the part about the dog... I assume that was Leda... geez... you should have gotten the rubber gloves out and pulled it out first thing.. A friend I knew had to do that with her cat once...it swallowed some yarn... and it wouldn't come out .. so had to pull... boy did it yowl!!
Goodness . my son is 17 now. I've forgotten how much fun ( sarcasm) little ones getting sick can be... when he was little he could never keep things down when sick.. and had lots of accidents... So my sympathies... especially since there are 4 of them and the dogs... sheesh.
Looking forward to the blog on the reading.. from TM's short blog about it it sounded like a big success.. . nice to know you'll post photos.
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Thanks, Chris! I seem to recall having to do that once with cat as well. If it had been a cat instead of a dog this time, I could have called this blog "Pulling It Out of the Pussy." The pussy could be a bit of a metaphor for me, too, I guess....
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In the short time I've gotten to know you John, I can see why people like your work...it is not soley for WHAT you say, though I think you very talented. It is that it's YOU saying it--the person you are, the care in how you choose your words, and how you do care what people think--that compells people to read your blogs. People respect your integrity-refreshing in this day and age. And it's nice to know you literary types with all yer fancy book-learnin', can still keep it real.
Hee hee hee
I laughed at the bit about the dog too.
Peace
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Thank you, Anne! I forgot to mention there was a bit of chewed up blue crayon in the poop too. As Elton John sang, "I guess that's why they call it the blues...."
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First of all..
"Fire fire.. shut up Beavis... WHACK"! I unfortunately have all those on tape... back when they originally ran on MTV... lol.
Second, about the puppy. I feel your pain, often when I clean out the cat-box I get strung popcorn like strands due to the length of my hair. It's not pretty, but sort of amusing.
Last.. I don't think it makes you a fake blogger to keep things to yourself. By expressing how you feel, in its self, makes sense to other people who blog as well. What kind of writer doesn't have inner turmoil?
My blogs get extremely personal, but there's some things I wouldn't write about simply because there's some things that are 'mine'. No dark secrets, or hidden bodies, just part of what makes us all complex people I think.
Maybe one day when I write my novel about nothing I'll write about shitting, fucking, and getting gutter drunk!
But that's me.
I'm rambling.
Great blog!
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Thanks, SG! There are some things I'm perfectly content never writing about - yet it sucks to feel one can never write about anything, and I get that feeling sometimes. The key, methinks, is in balance. And now I have Rick Nelson's song "Garden Party" playing in my head: "You can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself." Meanwhile I am waiting with bated breath for your novel about nothing.
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Nothin' wrong with your blog.
Been there and did that but with a cat--but after she had left a streak of shit on all the carpet in the house. I have NEVER heard a car yowl that loud...
... I wonder who first said shit happens? Must have been someone who had to deal with something like that!
But, really, truthfully, this is a really good blog entry because it lets me know how you are doing (dealing with a lot of shit
That's what I come to your blog to discover. So don't stop telling us ... okay?
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Thanks, Pinky! Fortunately there was no yowling with the dog (I forgot to mention in my comment to Chris that it was Leda - I'm still trying to caffeinate myself). She actually seemed relieved and pleased that I lent her a hand. It was like I could hear her thinking, "That was the shit!"
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I love everything you write. But I have to say these kinds of entries are my favorite. You're a storyteller and I really enjoy hearing you tell a story. I think that you have to do whatever you think is best with this blog, but I hope that you won't underestimate your ability to tell a story in a very engaging, charming and interesting way. I think that is a talent. I would love to see some blogs on Obama, or the exiting Bush. I used to really enjoy those political blogs. They were how we got to know each other. I don't expect you to remember that
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Thank you, Tara! I will say this: I think Obama's "team of rivals" approach to filling his cabinet (and especially the selection Of Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State) is brilliant. And I think Obama's going to inspire a lot fewer blogs than Bush did - which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
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Yes, he has that whole "brain trust" down pat. Of course the only thing more brilliant than Hillary as Secy. of State would be Hillary as Pres. No, I will never get over that. I keep trying to read "Team of Rivals" but I keep falling asleep. It's packed with info, which is probably why its, dare I say, boring. I'm reading Lincoln's Melancholy, sort of a self-help type Lincoln story. Instead of figghing his depression he put it to work for him. Interesting strategy from a brilliant strategist.
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Thanks for talking some politics with me, JC! When we first met, you were all fired up about Hillary Clinton and so was I. Guess we still are! It's been a great two and some years getting to know you!
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You are fun, genuine and a wonderful writer. You don't have to share everything about yourself, or anything at all. As long as you enjoy writing what you most want to share with your readers at the time... that is what brings people back to read again and again...except for Beavis and Butthead:
"I hate words."
"Words suck."
"If I wanted to read, I'd go to school."
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Haha! Thanks, Jen! Weren't Beavis and Butt-head the ones who wrote that song "We don't need no education / we don't need no thought control"? And why do their cartoons always leave out Beavis' brother Wally?
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Hell, John, this is an interesting change of pace
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Thank you, Michelle!
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needless to say you know my advice is: please yourself, never worry about pleasing others. prostitutes try to please others.
of course some folk think i try in my blogs to piss off others. not true. i figure it's my blog, my thoughts, for me - others come along at their own peril.
i find this blog more rewarding than the poetry night blogs because unless you're there, or able to go next time, blogs on poetry evenings are pretty much for those who went.
glad i don't have to deal with that domestic shit you just dealt with.
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ps - i have NO idea what the foto has to do with beavis & butthead - i could never stand to watch more than 5 moinutes of their one-joke existence.
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Thanks, Smith! I appreciate the affirmation and advice. I was going to post a video of either Audioslave's "Be Yourself" or Rick Nelson's "Garden Party" here. But I think instead I'll offer you this video to explain what my photo has to do with Beavis (mercifully, it's less than 2 and a half minutes long... lol):
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Omg JC, thanks for this! It's hilarious! Are you threatening me? Hahahha!
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that is amazingly unfunny.
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I guess all of you think that JC is hilarious! I agree Smith. It is definitely unfunny but it is his reality.
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Peace, happiness, health, love and optimism to all. Happy Thanksgiving!!
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This video is a cluster of dozens of clips from the movie. I think they're much funnier if you see them in context. And the movie is more highly developed and a lot funnier than the one-dimensional Beavis & Butt-head MTV series ever was. I'm not saying it was a great movie, but there were plenty of times when it made me laugh out loud. And I'm not generally that easy to please, especially when it come to comedy films.
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Good advice, Smith. I try to please people, but I'm not a prostitute, just a sucker. At least those girls keep something back for themselves. My Mom told me that when I turn fifty I will get over it and "not give a shit anymore." Only twelve years to go...
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LOL.. not heard that one before Tara... does that mean I can finally be free? LOL...
Well, Lordy be... I'm 2 years behind now... LOL...
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Funny how after reading this last night all I could think of was Herekles and his 12 Labors, especially the one having to do with the Augean Stables.... makes me wonder if this isn't "myth in miniature"... maybe the Labors of Jesus Crisis...
I can't imagine there isn't some poetry that can't be wrung out of all this... along with all the soapy suds that must be needed in all your houshold duties lately.... thinking .. thinking...
Anyway.. thought maybe it would maybe make you chuckle. at the thought.
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Ha! Could be.... I hadn't thought of Heracles, but I did think of Sisyphus (sissy fuss). How else do you think I learned to have such a great appreciation for rock music?
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Took me a few seconds to get that....
Ya.. Sisyphus came to mind.. for the long haul... but I think Heracles is a better fit under the current circumstances...
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I survive by looking at a lot of it as a journey - like I'm neither Heracles nor Sisyphus but Odysseus!
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All heroes in the making.. nonetheless.... whether they knew or not... whether they felt it at the time or not.. just as we all are.
As Joseph Campbell points out... we are each the heroes in our own story.
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"Real blogs" are the stuff of life.
And when we get the chance to take a look at little pieces from the lives of others, sometimes, i think it helps us see our own in a different life.
Take care,
TM
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Thanks, T.M. Ain't that the truth?....
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I told you once before that you have the soul of Yeats, but I wanted to hear from your heart-remember?
This was great! Stop worrying so much what people think, stop worrying if something makes you seem pompous. Life is hard enough, honey, without second guessing yourself all of the time.
I have had days like the above, I think that's what made it so funny.
P.S. I'm sorry I keep calling you "Chris". It's the "Jesus" thing that gets stuck somewhere between my retina and my gray matter.
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Thank you, Ruth! And you can call me whatever you like as long as you think I have the soul of Yeats.
I'm grateful for your kind words.
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I understand the hesitation to offend. I often want to eat my words when I blog. But I think opinion makes for interesting writing.
I've almost given up on blogs and blogging. Too many separate things to pull together. Too much daily effort. And my blogging has the effect of making expression banal - I can't keep up with comments - don't have much to say back to people. I don't often have something of substance to leave as a comment on someone's blog, or I feel like I'm repeating myself too often with praise, which makes it feel banal. I've also had too many false starts with writing projects and I don't feel like posting more false starts online; makes me feel foolish.
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You've expressed very well how I've been feeling lately - but I couldn't come up with the words. Banal! That's one of the words I was seeking. I'm tired of being (or at least feeling) that every word I write or say is banal. I can't recall a time I thought your writing was banal - but I suppose we are often our own worst critics. One reason I was able to write this long blog finally: I was able, if only for half an hour, to simply say "Fuck it! So what if I write something banal?" I usually can't or won't do that, however. Anyway, I'm grateful for your comment.
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