Thursday, July 09, 2009

Grayed over morning. Can't sleep past 5AM. Workshop tonight which I pray to the baby gods that I can attend before someone begins labor. So far so good. I need my writer's workshops. We laugh and eat delich nibblies and read poems and talk about poems. I don't get out much. This is the sum total of my social life. 

I used to be social. I used to be normal. Now I'm a bit squirrely. I even have a leetle tail. I think maybe my brother's suicide made a dent in my head. Now I walk crooked. Learning how to talk to people again. 

Oh, I'm supposed to read Saturday night. Very unsure if I will. The organizer has vetted the poem I wanted to read in consideration of the 'flow' of the evening. And she wants the poets to 'explain' their poems ( something I never do, never). And she doesn't 'understand' an epigraph in one of my poems, it doesn't 'fit' with the rest of the poem. *&$#@*!!!!! Who asked her? I have never been asked to read certain poems and not others. Blech. Argha. 

I'm at war with my desire to read to an audience and pissed at the organizer for trying to contain me. Maybe I'll be delivering a baby anyway and it won't matter. Ha!

I told my writing group not to come. Or if they do, they should be loud and rude and throw fruit. 

6 comments:

Radish King said...

Once you're up there on stage you can read anything you want. What is she going to do? Use the HOOK? It's a pretty fancy venue. That's what I would do, Beth. Don't use all your allotted time and read whatever the hell you want and then leave if you want or stay and see what happens. I don't think this group of writers are going to do much to further your writing career anyway.

Rebecca, burner of bridges

beth coyote said...

burner of bridges, hahahahahahah!

Valerie Loveland said...

I know exactly how you feel, I used to be a squirrel. Now that my anxiety is gone, I realize I never actually learned how to be social. I'm working on it!

Oh no, if you read a different poem than what the organizer wants, the entire evening's flow will be ruined!

It seems charming when other poets do it, but I never talk about my poems when I'm reading. I just don't know what to say.

Hillary said...

I can read my poems. When asked to ad lib, I stutter and become a compleat idiot!

Marta Sanchez said...

Wow. I didn't know I could have thrown fruit. Did you rebel? I love the pic.

Oh and it took me 4 years to go out on my own after my brother's murder. Even today, a friend is having a 20th wedding anniversary at a south end park I don't know. I still don't like going places I am unfamiliar with, never had that problem before...

beth coyote said...

marta-I like to stay home, no reason to talk to anyone, yeah.