Dispatches from the Front

(Lebanon Junction, Kentucky. Thanksgiving 2006. Near my birthplace, Fort Knox)

I've been thinking about how a cover letter to a literary magazine should be like an artists' statement. Maybe I should try stating what my goals are with the stuff I'm writing. All of my poems, more or less, I am seeing as emotional journalism--dispatches from my heart, me out here on the front lines, dodging bullets, lobbing grenades, all in matters of my heart and soul.

So that's my new goal: briefly stated when I send anything out. Perhaps it'll help with acceptance. I don't my letters so far have really helped any editors or readers get to know me. I've always preferred to let the work speak for itself. But hey, who doesn't need a little help whereever they can get it? Why not turn on the charm when it comes to presenting myself on the page? I am better on paper--I just need to find a way to smile on paper and shake a hand on paper. Yeah, I think it will help.

And I'll post some of my emotional reportage soon; the likes of which have been rejected by such magazines as Black Warrior Review and Crazyhorse. Still so many more to hit up. Why does the submission process take so damn long? I'll just keep my post, watching the field for enemy fire, and blast out a few more shots of my own to let them know I'm still alive.

The Hooha Monologues

I heard on NPR that the great state of Florida actually changed the name of Eve Ensler's play to the above atrocity. It was offensive to someone who actually has a vagina--I'm not afraid to say it--and she couldn't stand even seeing the word. Wow. Sort of defeats the purpose of the whole thing, huh? Say it loud: You've got vag and you're proud! I do. Ask anyone.

We're All in the Same (Striving) Gang

Pondering what makes a life meaningful, useful, profitable I come to the conclusion that a lot of us are searching for more and as we watch the market praise and benefit absolute crap over and over again, we wonder if we'll ever be able to make a living trying to life ourselves out of the crap.

I'm speaking of those of us who are wishing for an intelligent community that could publish something meaningful to all of us. Why don't we have the market power? Are we all too cheap to invest in the things we hold dear and keep carping about there being a lack of in American culture?

It would be nice to care more about community and culture and the quality of life -- internally than a paycheck. I for one am usually afraid of being poor again. I want a comfortable life, but not at the expense of missing out on life.

I want to write about people doing great things, specifically women, and I think I can find a place that will want to pay me to do that. But right now that isn't happening. I'm trying to narrow things down, find my avenues to something that can be profitable and rewarding. I want to honor craft and others and history and respect humanity at the same time. But you know what is tiring me most? People telling me it can't be done. I believe it can. And I feel like I can at least try on a small scale for some success at this.

I am not alone in this. A lot of people want this. And I think I've long known that satisfaction and happiness for me lie in the striving itself, not the profit you make from it. It is an emotional profit, the satisfaction of a useful life, that you are doing something meaningful -- at least to yourself. It think that's really all I want. And I can do that in many ways. I just want to make sure I don't starve in the process, or that others don't.

The idea that we're all in this together give me hope and strength. I'm one of those people who believes in the power of positive thought, the power of the heart, and the fact that if we think these things together they can change the world, because that's energy, and that's what every fiber of our being is made of. Energy. Thought energy. Heart energy.

And some blood, sweat and tears, as the phrase goes. I've come to the conclusion that you get dragged through no matter what you choose to do with yourself -- why not make it something meaningful? Life will always have hard moments. I risk being Pollyanna about things, but I have heard stories of people who keep believing through droughts of mind and heart, and come out of it with exactly what they envisioned. If we can display that patience, maybe it'll come.

Affairs that are public: Like keeping women healthy and alive and literate

I just corresponded with my zupafantastic friend Dave (see I Just Wanna Be a Tugboat Captain) about ladies in the Peace Corps. He spent time in Haiti and the Dominican Republic and started a public health clinic down there. He's a great source of inspiration, and a pretty amazing friend. You should look at his blog and become as smitten with him as everyone who meets him in the flesh is.

I have so much brewing in my head right now--particularly about being a useful human being. My job is starting to provide an opportunity for me to do that, if I work it the right way. We have a great section of the company called Public Affairs, and they work on a few promotions a year, including one called End Violence Against Women, then there's one on Breast Cancer Awareness, Every Woman Counts (that's getting women to vote--this year it's going to be awesome!). So here I think I'll be able to write and do the good that I hope to do, and hopefully, it can lead to other things too.

In the meantime, I'm making my way across cyberia and finding organizations that shine a light inside and NEED PRESS and I think I should be one to provide it. This is one of the most amazing groups: Women Without Borders, they're all about ending violence against women too.

God, my insides feel like a Bob Dylan song: I feel reborn with purpose, and think I am figuring out that I have a tool that will get me closer to my goals.

Vietnamese

One thing I LOOOOOOOVVVEEE about Jersey City is the food. Donna and I had this amazing beef we cooked at our table and wrapped in rice paper. This is the sauce I would love to bathe in.