Bow Tie o’ the Day is proud to show off its circuitry. Hat o’ the Day reminds me I haven’t yet posted my initial impression of Tucson. When we drove away from the Tucson airport, and we could get a clear view of Tucson for the first time, I told Suzanne it looked almost like Albuquerque– where we had visited a few months before. Except, of course, Tucson has a whole lotta cacTIE. I immediately renamed the city– and will forever refer to it as– CACTUSQUERQUE.
I have never understood how my mind does that. Sometimes my brain moves at a pace I can barely keep up with– even when I’m not manic. I don’t think it has anything to do with my being bipolar. (Stay tuned for interesting, bigly news about a new thing I’ll be trying, in order to tame my rapid-cycling bipolar-ness.) My mind has always functioned like this. It cuts to the validity of what someone says, and/or it cuts to the joke. The perspective that humor can provide often shows a truth we otherwise couldn’t see.
For the past few years, I haven’t been writing many “new” poems. Instead, I have been combing through my notebooks– forming poems out of ideas, snippets, lines, and whatever I can mine from my basically indecipherable handwriting. I have spent the bulk of my time editing. I’m working to form sense and poetry out of what I wrote over the last decade. Sometimes, it isn’t pretty. It requires going back to what was happening when I scribbled these bits and pieces of language. That can be painful. Sometimes it can be exhilarating. One thing is for sure: Going back to those memories, from the perspective of where I am now, is always enlightening.
Looking at things I wrote long ago can also be mystifying. When I sat down at my desk this morning, I picked up a notebook and found some weird tidbits. Here are a handful of examples of the notes I discovered today:
“I ordered a tiara, so I can explore my princess side.” I have never ordered a tiara in my life. What could this sentence possibly mean? It is funny though.
“I never meant for that to NOT happen.” We could all make a list of things we tried to make happen, but couldn’t.
“Be angry when necessary– but always without carrying resentment.” That’s got some wisdom to it.
“My Tobasco heart” I’m thoroughly stumped about what I was thinking when I wrote this phrase.
“It’s a desert thing./ You have to be there/ In a truck,/ To get your clue/ That leads you to/ Your ghost/ Of many colors.” Puzzling, but I like it. I can probably turn it into a decent poem.
“Is there a patron saint of bipolar?” Must have been a particularly bad day.
“Scrabble and scrapple are not cousins.” WTFudge????
See. Strange. I told you so. I have my editing work cut out for me.