An old one. I can’t remember much about it; a child asked me “what is art?” and I came up with a non-answer in the form of a title and poem.
Last month, I was lucky enough to meet and type for several members of the San Fernando Valley’s Junior Roller Derby team. I loved typing for each of the girls. Kristine, Ophelia’s mom, sent me these pictures.
A few days ago, I came across an insightful article by Alli Magidsohn (Graves That Save). It investigates sustainable funeral arrangements, as well as the philosophy behind the Sustainable/Green Death Movement.
Alli got a chance to interview Jae Rhim Lee, the creator of the Infinity Burial Project. I stumbled upon Jae’s project several years ago while researching mushrooms. Though I’m not a member of the Decompiculture Society (yet!), I’ve been telling everyone I know about the possibility of my corpse being consumed and detoxified by fungi. In my mind, it’s a fantastic goodbye gift.
Several weekends ago, I got the chance to type at WorldFest for the second time (see last year’s “Koala” and “Daughter“). Since I knew what type of crowd flow to expect, I made sure to structure my time in an adaptive way. I set up two chairs instead of just one. I didn’t add people onto a waitlist, or even allow a line to form while typing. I focused exclusively on whoever was sitting next to me, and told anyone who wandered by that they would have to come back when the chair was empty.
I ended up typing only 10 poems the entire day–a drastic difference from my usual 50, 60 poems every two hours. I felt more of an emotional burnout than an intellectual one; living in someone else’s shoes is a lot more fulfilling to me than mechanically churning out as many adjectives as one can think up. I usually try to unearth first impressions out of five minute conversations. This time, interactions would last anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. Think of the space that kind of time provides; it was amazing to witness stories, memories, thoughts, emotions, connections growing more and more tangible between us.
Today I made a new Skype username: typewriterpoetry. If you’re on Skype, feel free to add me; the little icon above reflects my online status.
I’ll be available for an hour every day. I don’t have a set schedule, and I prefer it that way (as it reflects the spontaneity of when I set up Typewriter Poetry in the physical sense). Like TyPoInPo, it’ll be interesting to see who participates. Whether you’re a fellow blogger or a stranger lurking, hi! Hello! I’m looking forward to Skyping free poetry with you.
Last week, I gave away free Valentine’s Day love and admiration poetry at the Mid-City farmer’s market.
A huge thanks to Moisés for giving me an amazing box of onionskin typewriter paper last year for my birthday…this was the first time I’ve used it. Love at first feel. The translucent, texturized, fragile essence made for a perfect poem this Valentine’s Day.
Here’s one of many poems I wrote during downtime.
The first question people usually ask me after we’ve been talking for a while is “where are you from?”
“I’m from LA,” I always say, though now that I’m in Louisiana I wonder if I should be abbreviating it as “L.A.” in my head.
Whether it’s my clothing, demeanor, accent, or the fact that I use “dude” more than the average person should, everyone always nods their head in immediate understanding when I declare I am from California.
Welcome to 2014! Here’s the #TyPoInPo poem I assembled with your fantastic lines. Thanks again for all your help…I had a little too much fun piecing it all together.
I think I got all the contributions–checked various search engines rather obsessively just to make sure–but if you don’t see pieces of your line, let me know and I’ll include it in the next round of TyPoInPo.
There is an intricate dance I think most of us miss out on. That is the art of delayed gratification–or, in this specific case, letter writing and snail mail.
Yesterday, a wonderful present arrived for me. I wasn’t expecting it, and that certainly added to the initial gasp-shock-love-dream-daze sensation. It’s a sensation I usually associate with making intense eye-contact with a brave, vivid personality. In the haze of it all, my mind struggled to catch up and rearrange the circumstances.
An epiphany: I had received my letter from Remi.
Optimism has been a philosophy that keeps me going when logic just won’t cut it. For all of its pros, looking on the bright side certainly comes with a few cons. For instance, I have decided that I will actively strive not to delude myself with extreme idealism, as I am growing weary of crashing head-first into that solid shape we sometimes refer to as reality.
Artisanal LA is this weekend. Don’t ask me why, but I thought it’d be a swell idea to contribute 1,500 poems for the event gift bags. That’s right. 1,500 original poems. Via typewriter.
There’s one experiment I’ve been wanting to try for a while. It comes from being a fan of collaboration, as well as having a deep love of the internet.
Typewriter Poetry has always been a “we” project. In getting back to that, I’m asking anyone who reads this to help create a typewritten Internet Poem–or, as I’m
singing saying in my head, #TyPoInPo (Typewriter Poetry Internet Poem!).
How to participate, you ask? All you have to do is create a single line of poetry and upload it to the internet.