Looking through my old posts, I realize I haven't typed a real good Journal entry in a long time. I mean a real good one. One where I'm not being terrible reflective and smart, where I just talk about what I did that day or the day before. So, here is what I did yesterday,
Shontae and I went to this girl Molly's house for a poetry reading. Molly is some Carlow employee, our age, who is a writer as well. She has a neo-beat style, and I kind of like her work. Crystal talked me into coming, and I'm glad she did. Molly had some of her Chatham MFA friends over too. So, there was Crystal and I (Shontae just along for the ride-the Psychology major!) and Molly with our styles of writing, and there were the Chatham girls with theirs. Though, they each were very interesting-especially the one girl, I think her name was Adrianne or Andrea, who is doing her senior manuscript on reinterpretations of women in the Old Testament, through poetry. I was impressed by her. She seems like one of those real serious type of writers, the ones who know of all the current writers, all the Pulitzer Prize, all those little awards and who won them. I don't think I understand the value of knowing all of that stuff, but good for her I suppose. It doesn't matter to me if a particular writer won a particular award, they could still be shit to me. And, I didn't like the way that Adrianne (?) read her poems. She did the thing where she accents the last word in each thought with an upraised inflection, does that make sence? I can hear it in my head, I don't like that. Erin Emily Engle in my Surrealism class does that too. It seems almost pretentious to me. I wonder what I sound like when I read. I would think I sound conversational, natural, maybe storyteller-like, depending on the subject matter.
Speaking of subject matter, that was the major difference bet-no, not so much subject matter but style, usage maybe, I don't know how to describe it. Perhaps the difference is in the things that we would use to make comparisons, or even mention at all. Using the "Colorado River swimming through the Grand Canyon" as a metaphor for a girl's fluids running between her is not something I think that the Chatham girls would think of to use in their poems. They were much tamer and, I don't know, not as lustful I think. They used a lot of imagery but it was literal imagery. One of the girls was talking about how a poem she wrote made her mom cry, while Carlow a girl writes poems based on her experiences as a waitress in a stripclub. See what I mean?
Still, it would be good to keep in touch with Molly and workshop with these girls, since for a while it would give each of us an objective veiw on each other's writing. It's good when you learn someone's style, but after a while, it's like reading your own work and you don't catch things that others would who've never read you before.
After the Chatham girls left, Crystal, Shontae, Molly and I hung around and drank (more) wine. I got to know Molly, her story and such. Very interesting. It was nice to hang out with newer people and fit it well. I usually need a lot of time to warm up to people, but it was cool with Molly. Crystal too, though I knew her a little from before. Perhaps it's because we're all writers, poet people at that. We're all quirky and accepting and interesting. Plus, never before did I actually know people who were willing to listen to or to read each other's work, other than in school. This is what we all should be doing. I always read about groups of writers and how they would sit around and smoke and drink and talk about writing and talk about the world. I always thought that sounded pretentious, but still it seemed like a lot more than what I've been doing. So, that's what we did last night. I feel that it was a good experience, and I will be seeing them again.
Then, the second phase of the night began. Shontae came with me to Molly's because afterwards we planned to go to a party that was near Molly's house. Crystal walked us there, and wanted to use the bathroom, but after that she was set on going home. Though, she ended up running into a guy she knew from high school and ended up staying with us the rest of the night. In fact, the night ended at Crystal's place at around 4:30 am as we watched the A and E Biography on Fidel Castro...
Crystal is a lot of fun at parties, as in, she is not shy and she will take care of the attention. Maybe it is just that she wants attention, though she's not annoying or rude in any way to me. She knows when to stop. I like her a lot. She also likes to spout off theories about cheese and Reganomics and such, cows, landowners, definitions of self...it was wacky.
I talked to this guy who I knew a long time ago, the one that would come into the Diner all the time when I worked there, the one I doted over like a 1965 Beatles fan at the Ed Sullivan Show. He was looking like he felt out of place, walking around inside with his wool coat on, and he refused to talk to anyone, but sign. I thought it was kind of funny, but sad too, because he looked like he felt he wasn't pulling it off and he felt dumb himself. Eventually, he went to stand on the back porch, with some other guy, this loud annoying drunk guy, so I went to say hello and talk to him. See, I haven't probably talked to him since maybe I was 16, 17 or so, and even then I didn't talk to him much. The extent of our talking was me saying hello or "do you want more coffee" (but in my head it was really "dear god, I want to lick you") and then the time when I went to Borders, where he worked, and we talked about poetry for a little bit, and I gave him a poem that I wrote about birds. A few days later he came to the diner and he wrote me a note on a placemat about what he thought about my poem. Of course I still have it, somewhere. After that, I don't remember. I've seen him around town for years, but I never talked to him. I don't know why. I guess I just didn't care anymore, I mean, I had a 15 year old girl crush on him.
Still, I think it's rude for people not to at least say hello to people they know, so I approached him. I got him to talk, haHA! He said he remembered me. Mostly he was apologizing for the loud drunk annoying guy that kept interupting our short conversation. All I was concerned about was him looking at me the way he was, hrmmmmm, and his pretty brown eyes and his smile and his shyness, and his talking about how talking is overrated. True, I have a note from him, he must either be incredibly shy at times, or he is just fond of antique things like letters and such, which I assume is the case. Oh, and he asked me if he was mean to me, after I told him I remembered him from the diner, and I said, "No. I had the biggest crush on you." to which he replied, "humphhphh / embarassed laughing" into his coat. He was very nice, to me and to my friends. It was good to talk to him, briefly as it was. Geez, by the way, his name is Jasin. And by the way, still he is so good looking. I honestly think that he is the most good looking person I know, I think he is the most good looking person I have seen. Gosh. Heh. Really, I think that.
And so, after he left, I decided I'd let myself get drunk, and I did. I had quite a headache. Though, by the time I got home at 5 am sharp, I was absolutely fine and felt like staying up some more and doing homework or something. If only I could have fallen asleep before and not feel like I was being tumbled around in the ocean and feeling like I was going to puke. Puke Puke Puke.
But, it was a good weekend, I made better friends with Crystal and Molly, and I had a good last romp out with Shontae, who is going to Scotland next semester. Oh Shontae, what will I do without you?
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