Motivation Mondays: I Need a Better Word for “Muse”

Before the musing, here are some places to read/listen submit, and also some bragging.

**One of my favorite poetry-soulmates, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, was kind enough to include me in her Indiefeed series on the women of performance poetry. Being in my own iTunes queue was a pretty exciting thing to wake up to the other day. The series will be pretty incredible, so if you aren’t subscribed, go there soon! And here’s their submissions page, too! Do it!

**The Legendary is taking (audio and text) submissions for their upcoming Slam & Flash Issue until March 10. Really, you should submit to them every month. They’re the nicest editors in the world.

**Radius is a new journal headed by my Worcester favorites Victor D. Infante and Lea Deschenes. You should submit to there, especially if you write political poetry or like to make up forms like I do.

Anyway!

I’ve decided that I don’t want to call anyone a muse again. It’s such a passive, limiting idea, and it doesn’t do justice what happens when the creative spark crackles between people like a miracle.

Often I’ve called someone a muse because I'm overwhelmed by him or her, as a way of trying to control something uncontrollable. It’s often a way of sublimating desire, which leads to good poems, then bad poems, then tears. “Muses” have sort of shimmered in and out of my life, often because I’ve loved them so much I’ve just gone ahead and alienated them. (I thought about retiring the word “crush” for similar reasons, but, to paraphrase the Fugees, me without a crush is like a beat without a snare.)

So what do you call what really happens when a combination of people becomes a crucible for art? For when you adore another writer on solid ground? For a kindred spirit who makes you brave and light fires underneath you? For the people in your life who are so revolutionary as to make you listen to your own best ideas?

Soulmate is almost right, but not quite. I’ve never bought the idea that we only get one soulmate, per person, per lifetime. The soul is big and it needs a lot of different things.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve always thought this song is about. Pardon the typos in the video-- Gaga’s real video has too many poisonings for a post about love.

Spring Fever Mix Tape: Poetic License Horoscopes

***This week's springtastic picture comes from my sister, Katie Carter, who is my favorite photographer!***

Poetic License Horoscope for February 18-24

Spring Fever Mix Tape


Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Write About Love (Belle and Sebastian): Whatever cubicle nightmare is glitter-hazing your head, your heart needs some fresh air. Go outside and get sunbeams on your face. Map the snowmelt rivers, or better yet, follow them.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): (Portland, Oregon) You’re My Home (Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen): “We’re so thankful for everything we’ve got, and we’re so sorry for everything we’re not.” Except that you never have to apologize. Your heart is as bountiful as a Portland food truck. You are the opposite of an ironic mustache. Like the Rose City, your aim is true.

Aries (March 21-April 18): The Cave (Mumford and Sons): “The sun, it rises slowly as you walk/ Away from all the fears/ And all the faults you've left behind.” You are now leaving Plato’s cave. Things aren’t shadows anymore, they’re three-dimensional.


Taurus (April 19-May 18): Firework (Glee Cast Version): Everyone has come to the field and spread out their blankets as the blue fades from the sky and the stars appear. They’re waiting for you with a soundtrack of sighs. You are only for special occasions, only for glimmering across their upturned faces.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): The Suburbs (Arcade Fire): Things may seem end-of-the-worldy, but a lot of it plans to stick around, I promise. Ride bikes around like little kids. Take out your camera and record every angle of your living sight. Have faith in the horizon, and even in the cul-de-sac.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Animal (Miike Snow): You shapeshifter, mixing your signals, fading in and out like a pulse. You can decide what you are on any highway. “Now you’re pulling your disguise up. Are you free or are you tied up?”

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Home (LCD Soundsystem) and Home (The Magnetic Zeroes): Get there and stay there, or carry it with you. Everything you hope for is stacked up around your ears. Remember your best friend is your breath, and most importantly: come back, come back, come back.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): El Scorcho (Weezer): Somebody is always reading your diary, decoding the heart-doodles in the margins. Follow love with or without mistranslation, whether or not you are even legible. Send out sparks like homing beacons, it’s okay for now, the waiting.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): You Can Do It (Ice Cube): You are my very own living room dance party, and this is encouragement you can trust. “Don’t stop, git it git it.” You will.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22):  Touch the Sky (Kanye West): “Any pessimists I ain't talked to them,/Plus, I ain't have no phone in my apartment.” Feel free to be oblivious to anything that might hold you back. Pull out all of your household wires if necessary.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Born this Way (Lady Gaga): It doesn’t matter if you were born this way or not—the you that you are creating out of the materials given (hardship, music, TV shows, imaginary limits) is so perfect that it is too beautiful to look at. Get yourself to a disco ball, and refract all over the place.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): Awake my Soul (Mumford and Sons)  “How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes/ I struggle to find any truth in your lies/ And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know/ This weakness I feel I must finally show/ Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all/ But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall/ Lend me your eyes I can change what you see/ But your soul you must keep, totally free”

Poetic License Horoscopes is a free syndicated series which appears weekly on such lit blogs as The Serotonin Factory, Critical Mass  and The Legendary If you are interested in adding Poetic License Horoscopes to your lit journal / lit blog, please email me at serotoninfactory@gmail.com.

Song of the Week: Born This Way (?)

1."A billion stars go spinning through the night, blazing high above your head. But in you is the presence that will be, when all the stars are dead." Rainer Maria Rilke

2.Born This Way is the platonic ideal of a gay bar song. The SECOND I heard it I immediately texted my wingwoman and made plans. (See you at Woody’s tomorrow night!) It does sound a lot like “Express Yourself” but I think it has some important updates.

BUT

3. The idea of having to assert that one was “born this way” seems kind of old-timey to me. I like the idea that god or whoever made me a bisexual chaste/slutty lazy polyamorist femme-inatrix, (Did I make up that word? I hope so. But probably not.) but it also seems like a fine thing to have chosen. I think that self-creation is just as divine as whatever we were born with, maybe more so. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next era of equality work focused on self-determination. (Kujichagulia, y’all!)

(another Valentine) Videos from Light and Honey, Philly Slam

I feel a little shy about these, it's the first time I really did videos intentionally. I hope they're okay. The first one is from Apiary Corp's Light and Honey Series, and the other two are from my own beloved venue.

Friday Love Poem: In Praise of Friend Crushes

This poem is also up at The Legendary this month, along with poems by my cute-boy pals Ian Khadan and Scott Beal. You want to go to there. :)

And this week is all about how much I love my friends.




In Praise of Friend-Crushes
(From cutting and pasting the words to Lady Gaga's “Paparazzi.”)

In this dance, I'm running toward you.
We don't mind the famous velvet flashing.
We don't chase safe pictures.
Ready for the biggest room in our hotel-hearts,
we look past glamorous backstage promises.
You're like the radio, if it were unpredictable.
Chase your girl.
Follow the light until you keel over,
until you love me.
Sure as photo-flashes,
you're the glitter in my eyelashes.
I know the crowd's here,
but I can't hear them.
You're my price coming down,
and I'll need that, I'll know your famous face.
We don't have to wait at appropriate distances.
I'll be burnt sparklers,
plastic rings from gumball machines, 4-EVER.
(For eva eva? For eva eva.)

Between the true slumber party dance
and the studio sets,
I'll follow you.

And here's a nice cover:

Dance Party

So I stored up some extra serotonin this weekend by having a perfect dance party with my friends.

Also I now have a video of a friend of mine dressed up as Lady Gaga and singing "Paparazzi". Saved on the desktop for pep talk purposes.

Partial list of songs I LOVE LOVE LOVED dancing to:

1. Le Disko (Shiny Toy Guns)
2. Bad Romance (Lady Gaga)
3. It Takes a Muscle (M.I.A)
4. Push It (Salt n'Pepa)
5.Do You Want To (Franz Ferdinand)
6.Paper Planes (M.I.A.)
7.Halo (Beyonce-Dave Aude CLub Remix)
8. We Trying to Stay Alive (Wyclef Jean)

Poetic License Horoscope

Horoscope for July 16-22
With Advice from Lady Gaga, William Carlos Williams, and Band of Horses

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Once, during my Orange County days, my friend Jaimes was driving me home on the 405 when the dash lights started flickering. He got us safely to a gas station before the alternator died. He then proceeded to get out of the car and yell angrily skywards, asking God why this had happened. Rage against unfairness this week. Stamp your foot.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Never get a couch that needs a slipcover. You will spend all of your time arranging the fabric to try and cover up the spots and stains. Get something that’s good and beautiful all the way through. Your ass deserves it!

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Since your deepest desire is to be confided in, practice keeping confidences. Sew whispers and secrets into your coat like satin patches. It’s a little warm for this.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21) You like parties with lots of costumes. Next year you’ll be my date for the Steampunk World’s Fair, “A Three Day Expedition into Yesterday’s Future!” Start buiding yourself a copper shell, lit with glowsticks. Meanwhile, Halloween is mere months away—start boning the corsets, building the scaffold.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): I believe in haircuts. Lay back and let a stranger shampoo you. When the scissoring begins, let each strand represent a mistake you’d like to forget. Someone will sweep them away.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Your viral video of the week is “Yosemitebear Mountain Giant Double Rainbow 1-8-10.”(sic) Go camping by yourself and show enough awe to rival early American wilderness painters. It’s almost a triple rainbow. It goes all the way across the sky. What it means is that you’ll have everything.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): I bought a poetry collection called The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing. I’m surprisingly giddy to read it. Let’s open up to a random page, shall we? “If you can bring nothing to this place/but your carcass, keep out.” (William Carlos Williams)

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): In The Golden Compass, Lyra, the heroine, reads archetypal symbols said Golden Compass to plan out her next move. Here are your symbols, Aquarius: The Key, The Notebook, The Butterfly, The Giant Squid.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Please enjoy this quote from Lady Gaga’s latest Rolling Stone interview: “When you work as hard as I do or you resign yourself to something like music or art or something, you have to commit yourself to the struggle and commit yourself to the pain. And I commit myself wholeheartedly to my heartbreak…It’s a representation of my work. As artists, we are eternally heartbroken.” Discuss.

Aries (March 21-April 18): Interviewer Lynn Hirschberg apparently makes a habit of coaxing rock stars into ordering French fries fried in truffle oil, then using that as an example of how bougie they are. Don’t let anybody tell your story like that. Be like M.I.A. and release a retaliatory single. Or two.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): I think I need to use my weekly So You Think You Can Dance time for something else. Mia Michaels’ phlegmatic alterna-sniping is no match for Mary Murphy shrieking about the Hot Tamale Train. It’s just not so fun anymore!

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Here are some great lyrics from the Band of Horses song “Factory”: “Now then later, I was thinking it over by the snack machine/I thought about you and a candy bar/The Now and Laters, now that I've got, stuck between my teeth/
I fell asleep to the greatest movie of the year” Do just that kind of motel ruminating.

Maybe, Gaga...

This quote seems equally true and self-destructive. Whatever it is, I kind of love it.

“When you work as hard as I do or you resign yourself to something like music or art or something, you have to commit yourself to the struggle and commit yourself to the pain. And I commit myself wholeheartedly to my heartbreak…It’s a representation of my work. As artists, we are eternally heartbroken.”