New blogs and old prose. (And a dab of romance.)

So I am updating again!  Hooray!  Right now I'm in the process of finishing the lyrics on a couple of songs.  I'm also working a song parody project, and I'm trying to finish up a fan-fiction serial I've been writing since earlier this year.  (Yes, I do write fan-fiction.  At the risk of sounding like an even bigger nerd, it's World of Warcraft fan-fiction.  Most of it belongs squarely in the humor section.) 

Anyway, I've started to link to blogs and Twitter feeds that I read fairly often.  Some of them are written by people I know, some are not.

Should I mention now that I have acquired a boyfriend?  Perhaps so--this is a personal blog after all.  He's amazing, and you can read his random thoughts about life and musings on chess at http://www.liquideggproduct.com/.

And now, I have an old story for you that I wrote a few years back.  It was published in one journal or another.  It's to tide you over until I have new writing for you.  Or recordings.  Something!

Before I forget.

I do keep forgetting to post this, and I've had it written for weeks.  Poetry school continues!  Tonight, I bring to you the sestina, possibly the most irritating form ever.  It is a thirty-nine line poem.  The first 36 lines are grouped in six stanzas of six lines each, then a three-line "tercet," also called the "envoy."  Envoys are usually addressed directly to the person or thing that the rest of the poem is about--but not always.

The sestina becomes more difficult in that you choose six words as "ending" words for each line.  You have to use them in a set sequence, like so:

123456--first stanza
615243--second stanza
364125
532614
451362
246531
And for the last three-line stanza, it's 2/5, 4/3, 6/1.  Though you can do other forms, that's the one I used.  And to make it harder on myself, I chose to make rhyming pairs of words.  Most sestinas don't rhyme.  It's just far too difficult, because you want to try to choose words that have more than one meaning, so you don't sound like you're repeating yourself.  The best sestinas don't sound like they are using the same words over and over.

My apologies.

I've been doing stuff, obviously, but I've not had inclination to write very much here.  Then again, I'm doing very little writing in general at the moment.  Most of my time around the holiday season is given to seeing my family and friends (and co-workers) at various outings.  Also, this year I have the specter of final exams looming in a week and a half, so I've been doing a bit more on my schoolwork than I was earlier this year.

I am doing some recording this weekend, and should be doing more around Christmas.  My five-person band fell apart, but my two-person project is still ongoing, so there's that.  I have more than one creative outlet, though, so when music fails me, I turn to prose, or cooking, or...whatever, really, to occupy my brain.

In other words, there probably won't be a lot of updates here until the New Year...but I'll keep you posted.

Excelsior!

Someone needs to make me put my pencil down.

I don't know, THIS might be the most brilliant thing I've ever written, eclipsing even the Octogenarian Project.  I think this is why I get all the chicks.

I'm a hypnotist
A mathematical lyricist
So let me calculate your hypotenuse
You know what I mean
But you're so cute when you're obtuse.

Find my interior angles
I'll compute your slope
Lie tangent to my curves and become my asymptote
Let's test my theory, let's make this fact
I know you can hear me
This ain't just sex--it's math.

I'll circumscribe you
If you want, baby, I'll factor,
Derive, and divide you.
Like 5 into 30, I'm even into that
It might be dirty
But this ain't just sex--it's math.

If you've got a projectile
I've got a formula for trajectory
Don't shy from this
I'm a scientist
Of disciplines priapic and erectory.

You bring me to the vertex,
The apex, the climax
You put the (x) in S-E-X
And I
I just want to be
Your (y).

I can do you applied
Or I can do you theoretical
(That means it's all in your mind)
I can finish with solutions
Or just with hypotheticals
My methods might be spurious, but they're always exact
You know you're curious
This ain't just sex--it's math.

I really, really want to record this and make a Youtube video.  I REALLY DO.

And yet more writing.

I've been writing a lot more recently than usual.  I always write a bit, but these past couple of weeks have been a deluge.  Most of my work will probably never make it here, just my favorites.  But I wrote something that managed to touch my own heart deeply.  It's yet another villanelle, but I may love it best of all the ones I've written.


I await your favors, still dreaming of your face
If darkness overwhelms me, still that memory is mine
Maybe love is best where it is not commonplace.

I walk my past uncertainly, all my steps retraced
Through triumph and tragedy, every rise and each decline
While I await your favors, still dreaming of your face.

What came before was easy and at frenetic pace
But this is slower and not looked-for, and for all that much more fine
Maybe love is best where it is not commonplace.

What I have is little, laden with dishonor and disgrace
But in your dedicated fire inferior tempers to refined
So I'll await your favors, still dreaming of your face.

Now the scribing's almost done, vows that cannot be erased
I anticipate the seamlessness, the joy of being aligned
Maybe love is best where it is not commonplace.

No one prepared me for you, but now I've joined in the chase
To hunt and moon for something that's approaching the divine
I await your favors, still dreaming of your face
Maybe love is best where it is not commonplace.

The Octogenarian Project

So I have a friend that I will call Disclaimer Man, because he is the King of Disclaimers.  I have no doubt that when he gets married, he will be asked "Do you take this woman," etc. etc. and he will say "I do...but."

Seriously.  It will happen.

Anyway, this wonderful friend of mine issued me a mock challenge that I took seriously: to use the word octogenarian in my work.  He's getting his wish, and I enjoyed writing this beyond my ability to explain.  I mean, I didn't follow most of my normal creative process, I just wrote and laughed.

THIS IS THE BEST LOVE POEM-SONG-THING IN THE WORLD.  And it's allll for you, Disclaimer Man.

I love you like the NRA loves the Second Amendment
I love you like a dentist loves teeth
Your every wish is my commandment
As long as I'm living, your sword has a sheath.


No restrictions or limits--it's love libertarian
And I will still love you when we're octogenarians.


I love you like new mothers love naps
I love you like Kermit loves pork
I'm looking forward to popping my cap
You be the corkscrew, and I'll be the cork.


We go together like Conan and barbarian
And I will still love you when we're octogenarians.


I love you like magicians love prestidigitation
Like banks love overdraft fees
What I want from you needs no explanation
It's pretty straightforward--tab A, slot B.


I love you like Robin Hood loved Maid Marian
I love you like vultures love carrion
Like submissives love a disciplinarian
Like Karl Marx loved the proletarian
And I'll still love you when we're octogenarians.


I mean, amazing.  I don't think I can ever top that.

The Process of Writing Poetry, Part the First

I have a massive headache.  This has nothing to do with writing poetry.  Writing poetry is one of those things least likely to give me a headache.  However, if nothing I say in this entry makes any sense whatsoever, we're going to blame it on my headache.  Got that?  Good.

Of course, the poetic process is different for every poet, blah blah blah de-freakin'-blah.  We're all special snowflakes working on our "craft" (if that is not the most pretentious word ever used to describe what writers do, I am Marie of Rumania.  Not even "art" is worse).

Anyway, let's get down to brass tacks.  (Have you ever even seen a tack made of brass?  Me neither.)  The poetry form I'm talking about today is the villanelle.  You can read all sorts of interesting stuff about it on Wikipedia, because I'm only giving a basic overview.

A villanelle is a 19-line poem that uses two main repeating lines in its construction.  Because villanelles repeat so much, it's imperative that the repeating lines are used in a way that doesn't make this poem completely boring or nonsensical.  The construction is thus:

A1
b
A2

a
b
A1

a
b
A2


a
b
A1

a
b
A2

a
b
A1
A2

Theoretically, this should be pretty simple to understand, but since assumptions make us all dumb, A1 and A2 are the repeating lines.  The lowercase a's are lines that rhyme with A1 and A2, and all the b's rhyme.  Now you are smarter than you were.

So, in this case, I set out to write a love poem, but decided that I couldn't, for whatever reason, write a love poem today that was anything but dreck.  But then I started to write this, and it turned into a KIND of love poem.  Sort of.

At any rate, the first thing I do when writing a villanelle is decide what lines I am going to use for repetition, and then start brainstorming other rhyming endings.  So I came up with a first stanza:


I say all the things I've said before
Some verbatim, some paraphased
This time, though, I mean them more.

Of interest only to me is the fact that "This time, though, I mean them more" didn't start out like that.  It started as "But this time I mean them more."  I changed it for a couple of reasons I'll discuss in a moment.  But it was a perfectly good first stanza, with non-difficult rhymes to work with.  Then I brainstormed everything I could think of that rhymed with "before/more," and everything that rhymed or even just sorta-rhymed with "paraphrased."  I made sure to write down the word "semaphore" because I love that word and really, it just isn't used enough.

Here is where a villanelle gets tricky (to me).  Each stanza in the middle contains one of the repeating lines.  It's pretty imperative when I write a villanelle to make sure the other lines in the stanza support that repeating line.  So I ended up with this second stanza:

It's not a game.  I don't keep score,
But still, considering earlier days
I say all the things I've said before. 

You see?  The first two lines support the overall idea of "saying things [I've] said before."

Then I came to the third stanza.  I really didn't like the overall flow of "But this time, I mean them more" with the lines I chose here.  So I changed the line up to make the stanza flow better, and this is what I got:

I can remember vows I swore
And I kept them.  I'm still amazed.
This time, though, I mean them more.

If I had kept the "but..." line instead...it just didn't sound as good to me.  Sometimes that's the only criteria you can work on.

Of course, one of the other main ideas in writing a villanelle that you keep hold of is the fact that your two repeating lines will end up side-by-side in the last stanza.  They need to flow together well, and make sense just as a couplet.  Which I think I actually accomplished (some of my early villanelles, written when I was around 19/20, are painful because I didn't follow this rule very well).

Here is the poem in its entirety.  What I was trying to say--and you can read it any way you want--is that when we fall in love, we tend to repeat the same things over and over.  Not that they don't have meaning; that's not what I'm suggesting.  Feeling something for one person, and then feeling it again later on for another, doesn't invalidate the feeling at all.  I just found it interesting that our language of love tends to be circumscribed.  It's certainly something I try to avoid.

I say all the things I said before
Some verbatim, some paraphased
This time, though, I mean them more.

It's not a game.  I don't keep score.
But still, considering earlier days
I say all the things I've said before.

I can remember vows I swore
And I kept them.  I'm still amazed.
This time, though, I mean them more.

All that seems surreal semaphore (I knew I could use it somewhere)
Word and gesture, a love-charade
I say all the things I've said before.

To those I previously adored
I gave these gifts too.  Merely a phase.
This time, though, I mean them more.


Yet it was true then, that face I wore.
But I've dispensed with that masquerade
I say all the things I've said before
This time, though--I mean them more.