for xmas shopping and suchlike.

also, did something to one of my surgical sites tonight — i get these occasional twinges of pain that hurt like hell, but this is different — i think i reinjured one of the hernias.

will sleep on it, heavily drugged, and see what happens in the AM.

see y’all.

Before I get too deep into this post, I should make it clear that Icchus, my male cat, is MY PET in the strict sense of the word — he follows me around the house, sleeps with me whenever i let him, and in general makes his ownership of me very clear, as opposed to the other two cats, who treat me, essentially, as Food Source, much as Plains tribes regarded the bison but with far less reverence.

Icchus, as the saying goes, is my boy.

So you will understand that i do not say it lightly when i say that after he once again has cut my lip with claws while affectionately pawing at my face as i slept, and then knocking my glasses and my phone off the night table when i awoke from this action in a foul mood…

what i say at 3:30 AM is this: somebody out there is getting a grey and white extra large fur tea cozy for christmas.

if anybody gains any more info about Peter’s passing, please let me know, ok? the more i think about it, the sadder i get.

and i’ll let you define that according to your own devices…

do you find your work has gotten more personal or less personal over the years?

for instance, i always prided myself on my poems having less to do with the facts of my personal life than it may have appeared on the surface. There was plenty of emotional connection, of course, but it was dangerous to assume that a specific incident in my poetry actually happened.

My infamous mythical daughters who have appeared in a lot of my work are the best example of this…i used them to explore all sorts of observations about my friends getting older, my own relationship to the truth, and of course my nieces…but of course, i have no kids.

while that’s still mostly true, i find i write more closely to the bone of real life these days. my definitions of what i will and will not share have changed and i’ve become more free in using aspects of my life. in addition, a given poem tends to hew more closely to a description of “my” mental/emotional state than a generic human emotion i may be exploring. (I hope this is coming out right.) Of course, I want to always connect that with the general human experience — it’s not navel gazing — but i am approaching the challenge differently these days — i was always the anti-confessional poet, and now i find the pendulum swinging — not radically, but swinging nonetheless.

i’m curious — how has your writing changed?

Peter Conti, aka Peter of the Earth, poet of NYC, who died of cancer Friday morning.

I met Peter on the 2000 SlamAmerica tour. Peter was funny, kind, and could be both softspoken and outrageous — sometimes, both at once. I hadn’t seen him in a while and had wondered what he was up to, but like so many other times, I assumed I would catch up eventually.

Stupid.

He’ll be missed.

this item struck me tonight:

http://news.independent.co.uk/world/americas/article333457.ece

The one thing in the article i’m not sure of: I think Benito Juarez of Mexico was a full-blooded Native.

The left rocks on, south of the border.

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and in other news:

Dear Santa… Dear Santa, This year I’ve been busy! In November I committed genocide… Sorry about that, sassenach1970 (-5000 points). In June I helped dfleming across the street (6 points). Last Thursday I had a shoot-out with rival gang lords on the 5 near LA (-76 points). Last Friday I saved a busload of nuns in Angola (326 points). Last week I got in line at the supermarket at the same time as someone else and I didn’t yield (-8 points). Overall, I’ve been naughty (-4752 points). For Christmas I deserve a lump of coal! Sincerely, chryslerpoet

Write your letter to Santa! Enter your LJ username:

I did this thing like six times and i kept committing genocide. Nasty habit, that.

and out of one class, preparing to go into another.

i’m ready to keel over — running an obvious fever and still feel like shite.

but i’m here. this bastard bug loses this time.

be damned if i fall under this one’s power for one more freaking day.

because once again, i’m headed for bed…

because hell or high water i’m going to work in the AM…

because i’m feeling better enough to think i can…

and because against all odds, i’m tired of playing with my powerbook for the night.

(have I mentioned how much i love my powerbook?)

may all your children be born naked.

there’s a jazz show on public radio here in MA called “eric in the evening.” been on for years.

the opening theme is Horace Silver’s “Peace.”

after years of hearing it, i realized that there is a sense of comfort and, yes, peace that comes over me whenever i hear it. it’s like an old friend is knocking on the door and you look up to see him and feel glad he’s there.

i don’t think it’s about eric jackson himself (the host) or the show, although i like the show…it’s a little too mainstream for my taste a lot of the time. lots of ahmad jamal, stanley turrentine, etc. which i like, but it’s not my favorite stuff (things like ornette, trane, braxton, ayler, etc.)

no, it’s the song. and what i love is that instead of a snippet, they play the whole thing every night.

i have realized it belongs on the list of my favorite songs.

and here, i thought i was done discovering them.

both my wife and my therapist have asked me tonight if this is about being depressed.

one of the things i hate about being bipolar is that everyone around you assumes that everything that goes on with you is related to the condition.

this includes me, of course, as i second guess everything.

not this time. i’m sick.

i had a bowl of cereal, at least….but now i feel bloated and gross.

and i will be asleep again shortly.

immediately after typing the last entry, i fell asleep again.

sigh.

and i still don’t believe i’ll have trouble sleeping tonight.

sigh.

i’m also fucking freezing. whose idea was winter anyway?

sigh.

i’m going to try and eat something now. i had a bowl of cereal yesterday. that’s it.

sigh.

i am no longer sleepy, i can obviously look at the computer w/o wincing, and i might actually be hungry.

i think i’m better. will have to calculate hours of sleep in the last two days, but it’s gotta be 18-24 fer sure.

still achy as a sumbitch. we’ll see what happens next.

with the staying home. again with the sick.

it’s turned into a body ache all over. comes and goes.

calling the doctor later.

still sleepy. still ready to sleep some more.

for some reason, i’m a little worried about this.

they seem to be increasing in frequency. i know it’s stress related.

woke up and called into work at 7:30 AM, just woke up again.

and now, back to sleep.