my love for Vincent

i admit i've not read my fair share of poetry-- i know i need to round myself off with some Yeats and Wordsworth, etc.-- but i've always been drawn to Ms. Edna St. Vincent Millay. i love every poem written by her, as each one is clever and simple and captures something extraordinary and heavy in the undertones.

just to say, there is the favorite poet/writer versus the favorite poem/story. just as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is my favorite book that doesn't mean Betty Smith's my favorite author. it's in liking every word and work penned by the favorite author that you choose them. with poetry, i know enough that Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" is my favorite poem. but Vincent, you just cannot choose one poem. there's the liveliness and old-time grace to her words, in describing nature like distressed beings and the grandness of a single person by how they see the time passing and the environment around them. i am going back to Vincent because soon i have to choose a favorite poem on which to present for my lyric poetry class-- and "Howl" has just been worn out for me.

it's a runner-up, the above, versus the simplicity and gratitude in "Recuerdo" and sighs of"Cap D'Antibes." i was reading them all today on BART into San Francisco this morning, and even if i couldn't choose it was nice that something kept me awake-- nice that i have stumbled upon once more a magnificent and classic lady like her.

this was the year i really didn't write letters. that's bad.

because it's a lovely thing. to write letters. a lot. they’re the best keepsakes to have. when you read one, you realize that you are your own story.

(via Pinterest)

food truck food and team Edward

that there is the best of San Francisco's whole Off the Grid regime-- a Fryin' Maiden fried chicken sandwich from the eclectic and punching food truck Brass Knuckle with a menu giving homage to the greatest musicians.

now that's a prime example of character-- yes even in the culinary business! not just the business itself that has their twist, too. i wonder how people come up with the Prawns and Roses, Lamb Halen, and Notorious P.IG. recipes. what aeoli or cheese and waffle bun makes the chefs think of certain rock stars? what exactly gives each sandwich character??

this is disregarding sandwiches but embellishes on the notion of character-development, particularly in writing. the other day in my conference over my senior seminar piece, i was given a great advice* for making sure characters are defined, polished, and kick ass. since my piece is full-on character driven with switching narratives, it's tricky to make sure one character doesn't outshine the other (which actually, yes, is being the trouble with my novel in the beginning pages).

so here it is, what you can do and should do! in order to avoid loose ties in the story and horrific one-sided infatuations à laTeam Edward Team Jacob: interview your characters, each and every one. use the same 20 or so questions and soon enough, you can see the characters talk for themselves. it won't be a matter of you voicing them-- just listen to your gut and think practically and mindfully about what you're sure your character would say or act about something. this isn't your interview, it's theirs.

* this is the beginning to my new section, writer to writer, where i shall collect and share great advice for anyone else trying their hand at making a written mess!

around the world:

it's been a fascinating start to this week!

King Richard III’s been found in a parking lot

The Alabama boy is safe

The former King of Cambodia is finally laid to rest four months after his death

French women are legally allowed to wear pants now

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fastI am alone in the nightBeen trying hard not to get into trouble, but II’ve got a war in my mindSo, I just ride...

“Ride” by Lana Del Rey
just obsessed with this song of late.

heart and soul and laughter

now that i've switched my senior seminar piece to my novel, it's rekindled this fire i've long forgotten for this piece. i'm a novelist, i can't forget that, and it's been so long since i've tackled anything this huge. The Muse Land was my joy, a defining moment in my committment to the written word. even though it's still a raw story that i really need to edit inside/out, it's completed all the same and a full-length novel. when i can, i really do want to have it formally published somewhere.

as for The Knight and the Businessman, it's a lighter, whimsical take on issues i have towards social class and relationships. comedy is always something i feared for having little knowledge of how to create it myself. it's a hit or miss with me, but not this year. in 2013 i want to really work on my comedy, work on this new novel. what's a good writer without having a chance at all forms of writing? especially comedy, people love a good laugh anywhere in any form.

it is Saturday. find me at this desk again and at work with a serious itch on my bent brow and in the best of slouchiest comfy sweaters. i still can't decide on music, always an issue. it's so good just to have a working computer again to catch up, though being away from one definitely had its merits.

i had time to just think, read more (and get inspired again), and just reconnect with friends and what was in front of me. it was a long winter break. more like a retreat into what needs focusing. even from music. that was weird. but even as i write, this January of transcendalist nothing helps me remember to:

think about everything

pay close attention

take my time--even with these sentences it's nice to just relax and slow down the sentences. fewer.
words. more thought.

"Messy Girls," a poem

Cinderella is a raving

mad bitch.

She missed her stop at Fillmore

but that’s not the troubles weighing her down.

Of all the people,

of the chicks 9 to 5 like her

no chances of dreams

Shitting  the dress, spill the shooters

hairspray and mascara that run

things she swears over her dead body

could ever happen

ever after

Yeah she’s over it,

shouting to the rooftops

from bathroom mirrors

with pop songs on repeat

to affirm exalting madness

and over how skeptical she is

of every name tag

reading “Prince Charming.”

She’s just over it

the girl with the heart of gold

looking out to the foam slithering into Ocean Beach,

Cinderella thinks she’s caving in

With her favorite song in mind,

she’ll jump with fulfillment onto the back of the motorcycle

with Matt Helders.

Maybe she’ll kick the glass slipper and

don cream combat boots,

blowing that sinister kiss to the Prince.