A wise woman (not me) once said

You need a leg to stand on so the other can kick ass.

And so, after a month of jobless freaking out, I've finally landed a gig! It's only part-time to start, but eventually, provided the economy cooperates, will become full-time.

Other things are coming up roses as well, but I'll keep mum for the time being.

I stand by my previous statement

As regards being a smartass to you on the internet. Be that as it may, I am not interested in a fire fight regarding Polanski. You will not change my mind, I will not change yours. If you agree with me, fabulous! And congratulations, you may happily claim the title of rational thinking human being that I have bestowed upon your head. No laurels necessary. You know, Caesar wore laurels to cover his baldness. He was like Rome's answer to Donald Trump. Yes, I learned that on the History Channel. If you disagree with me, I won't censor you. I only censor spam comments and overt trolling. But shooting down my ideas without considering them, without engaging with them in a rational way is not what I call thoughtful commenting. Shoutiness is next to trolliness, and on this blog, thou shalt not troll.

Why are people still arguing about this?

Apparently, there's an article being teased on the New Yorker that has called into question whether Samantha Geimer was, in fact, raped by Roman Polanski.

I mean, really? Take away the fact that she said "no" multiple times (read the transcript if you haven't), take away the booze and the quaaludes, she was THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. READ: THIRTEEN YEAR OLDS CANNOT LEGALLY CONSENT TO SEX.

But, the fact that people insist on constantly rehashing this argument belies a larger and much more disturbing issue - rape culture has programmed even the most outspoken of wishy-washy liberal celebrities to defend it. Yes, I am personifying rape culture. It is all I can do so as not to be so angry at Kristen Scott Thomas. Thankfully, Emma Thompson has mended her rape apologizing ways.

As for the New Yorker article, I can't bring myself to read it, but my guess is that it has a healthy dose of victim-blaming, embrace of the idea that artists and Holocaust victims are somehow above reproach for their misdeeds because of what they have created or endured. Yes, Polanski had a rough start in life, lost a wife and unborn child, lived comfortably in exile from the U.S. for many, many years. That does not make him any less a rapist!

And that's all I have to say about that.

Happy Birthday, Emily

1106

We do not know the time we lose -

The awful moment is

And takes its fundamental place

Among the certainties -

A firm appearance still inflates

The card - the chance - the friend -

The spectre of solidities

Whose substances are sand -

Your laughter is great

Thankfully, I have never experienced a reading like the one narrated by Jezebel writer Jenna. I'm not familiar with the poet in particular, but she sounds like a flarfist, and as such, reliant upon her delivery more so than a lot of more conventional poets. Which got me thinking more about poetry as performance. I mean, it is. Flarf or not, poetry is to be said. I never really consider a poem finished, point of fact, until I have read it to another person (or at least my cat.) It sounds like the audience of the reading in question here could use some theatre appreciation 101. And also the poet. I mean, the poet sort of half-assedly asked for a response, but in the wake of something as powerful as a poem, she could not have expected to (and didn't) mitigate the response she got. What she got was a lot of people shouting down "the laughers." Fortunately, Jenna had the gumption to talk to the poet herself and confirm that the response she gave was "correct" - but why should she need to do that at all? I think that poets need to be aware that reading (performing) for people is a necessary part of their craft, and thus a responsibility (not just an opportunity) to be an ambassador for their art. I think people like Jenna - in all respects incredibly talented and intelligent - are freaked out by poetry simply because they can't appreciate it in an organic way without feeling mene mene tekel upharsin burned into the backs of their heads - weighed, found wanting. The fact is there is no one true and correct way to react to any performance and poetry is no exception. So, yes, Jenna, your laughter is great. You got it.

I will always be a smartass to you on the internet

I just can't help it. It's the introvert's balm. Mostly an impotent gesture, but really, what's a writer to do but shout into the void? Or sing, or croak, or whatever best reflects the mood of the moment.

Aside from the above vagaries, I do have a few thoughts to share. On simultaneous submissions. I simultaneously submit. It's what I do, and it is a very very rare occasion indeed when I submit to a journal (on purpose) that does not allow simultaneous submissions. When I do, I make sure it is a journal I really love and respect and understand on some level. Otherwise, they can get bent. And I will tell them that on the internet.

I can understand the impetus behind barring simultaneous subs - it's a pain to have to deal with the correspondence and what if a poet has a poem accepted elsewhere and neglects to inform other places of that acceptance? Bummertown. Ultimately, only the editor can really *get* the reasoning behind their guidelines, I warrant, and my vision will forever be tainted by my status as lowly poet. But, I can always take my fatass poems elsewhere if I disagree. That's the only power I have at the moment, and it's not much power. I shall wield it!

Poetry as a thing in itself is a gift economy. As such, it always feels kind of wrong to restrict its exchange, to gate-keep, to use form letters and such. In fact, I take it back about readings being horrible. I think readings are wonderful. In fact, there should be more of them, more casually, more exuberantly. There ought to be more free exchange, more discussion, more interaction, unencumbered by slush pile wading and such.

Also, I had a job interview yesterday and it went well! Fingers crossed. Also, I stay in shape mostly by playing Dance Dance Revolution. I can almost combo Tsugaru on difficult. Also, no one sleeps like my cat sleeps. You sleep, cat. You show us how to just sleep and that's what we need.