Yes, I know NYR don’t work. THHHHHHHPPPPPPPPBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTT
Big one: no clothing, books or music purchases for myself in 2013. Why? “Because of the exigencies of capitalism, things have gotten a little weird.” I’ve not read all the books in my bookshelf, my “records to check-out” list-making obsessiveness is making me tired and I’m warm enough. I self-soothe with Amazon.com and that just ain’t cool.
Also, secretly, I’ve always thought of myself as an artist/writer. Somehow I lost that plot and I’ve relegated such creative urges to silliness, although I’ve never second guessed my need to consume culture. And even if all the books in my pile are always canon, always “important”, I’m still just a consumer… It does get to me when I really think about it. I guess maybe the consolations of other’s art ain’t exactly cutting it right now. To that end, I’ve started writing little aphorisms and snippets of, I guess, poetry on my phone whenever I find myself idle (on that note, see http://www.cellpoems.org/ which amazes me).
Harder than the writing, of course, is the mawkishness of such scribbling. Its damn hard to get past issues of qualities and recriminations like, “if you wanted to do this, you should have started a regular regime 10 years ago!” Issues of practicality, “professionalizing,” etc etc
At any rate, I’ve signed up for a poetry workshop at the Writer House. I find this prospect both exciting and, mainly, terrifying. Wish me luck.