Teeth Clack Prayer (Poem)

My little soft bullet is tucked between my lip and gum
Sucking the brass off it, sucking the powder out. Unburned

Saltpeter. Young, when first was I reversed, “old soul”
Felt wrong when all I did was spin like a hurricane
Clothes blown, unhinged closet door, two bulbs out and
Black inside discolored like

Charcoal. I found righteous and I stood beside me
Made-up man with his fantasy plan, role models gone,
Fingering the little triggers that blew up the sun, friends,
Now memories line book spines along book shelves
Line incense burners with nag champa, copal, and

Sulfur. I of my family made and carrying this stained glass
On my back keep track of things that break back to breaking;
Crisp morning day, the tip of my tongue a tiny pin, Round
Little Soft Bullet against
Teeth, saliva-wet staining, aimed at my past, I needed

.

My Nine Year Novel, and Why It Isn’t Published

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Warmest winter day ever.

Spring break is almost over! Yaaay (boo)! I still don’t have all my homework done. Exactly what I expected to happen this break, despite spending over 15 hours on courses already.

Between paper research that may or may not include multiple watchings of Idiocracy and This Film is Not Yet Rated, I’ve also been tackling professional representation/improvement on my writing work. My journey with this, the greatest failure and success of a novel, is a long and sordid one: one I wish to talk about for others in a similar field.

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Myers-Briggs and the Complexity of Self Through Novel Writing

This is going to be a particularly personal post. This semester has been more than a little overwhelming for me, I move about in a city I don’t know so well and don’t know too many people inside it. I’m struggling but not depressed. I’m lonely and simultaneously elevated in my love for what I’m doing. I just applied to Grad school, will be applying for assistanceship, and get along with classmates and professors just fine (if a little over exuberant and puppy-like sometimes). I just handed in three essays, a blog post, an abstract, and read nearly four books in the past week. I have a presentation tomorrow. I have two essays due the week after break, two more books to read, a proposal to write. I am happy here. This finally feels like me. I am not happy here; I have no friends inside my bubble.

I haven’t written on my novel in nearly a month. Continue reading

Prompt: Request

Good afternoon, WordPress friends!

For anyone interested in assisting me: if the world ended, and you had a way of cataloguing important people who died, and where, who would you include? I’m gathering a list to add to my novel Corpus Paradisum.

This is an homage to Ezra Pound’s Cantos, and how he catalogued all the artistic potential lost in World War I. Any help is greatly appreciated!

Chris

Structure in the Age of So Much Literature

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(I imagine Yes is the only living thing ~ EE Cummings)

I recently read a Twitter post from a pro-tip wielding writer (by the name of Delilah S. Dawson), and did a little bit of research on what she referred to (that bit o’ info is a blog I’m subscribed to, filled with extremely helpful information. I recommend you subscribe to him as well. WARNING: offensive language used on that site) concerning “Story Structure.” That link is far more succinct than anything I could say  about it, so I won’t say a whole lot more about it beyond anecdotal evidence.

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A Short Bit From Corpus Paradiso

After slogging through disconnect and diabetic infirmary, I woke with my words wrapped snugly around me. I endeavored to write a difficult passage, and found it exactly what I sought.

I wanted to share!

Quick backstory: Susursal is trapped in dream-wanderings, and having just escaped a nightmare scenario where he was forced to live two mundane lives of gardening and housecleaning for what he perceives as “hundreds of years,” he’s wandering the ruins of his ancestral memory.

He has two gods: God and Lalatu, a Hecate-esque god of possibility that lives on the moon. Ineluctable Man is a representation of many things; his failings, his shadow self, a mythological Everyman, an outside influence that he has brought in, or childhood sleep paralysis issues. Continue reading

A New Linguistic Environment

Note: This blog post is my effort to incorporate the “Discourse Analysis” (by James Paul Gee) into a real life encounter. Be forewarned: this might be boring.

I recently had the good fortune to sit in on a “Healthy Self Reset” Facebook page, where a pair of healthy eaters (and knowledgable people; from here on out referenced as “teachers”) gave information on how to eat and be properly active over a month, and was intended for poor eaters who needed a healthy reset after the holidays/help with resolutions, etc. It was cool. The teachers emailed those on the list with a recipe setup for the week, complete with meals, snacks, etc, and ways to improve on life.

I’m not the best eater. I have diabetes from poor choices (and ignorance) from earlier in life. I eat WAY better than a lot of people in this country (America), but I definitely don’t eat as well as some.

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