That's a quote from the next poet we're studying in my Three Women Modernists class: Elizabeth Bishop. Or as she's known here at the Cassiecabana, the source of Monique's new inferiority complex.

It took me a while to warm up to Marianne Moore (and truth be told, I'm not completely sold on her). I had to work with Lorine Niedecker for a while before I understood the subtle work she was doing. But Bishop, I get. Bishop, I get right now. And oh wow. Oh, wow.

I've tried to read Bishop before, but never as attentively as I should have. I am loathe to admit this, but I read poetry as quickly as I read anything else (uh, quickly) and writing that is deliberately slowed down (like that of both Bishop and Moore) tends to frustrate me, because you can't skim it. It isn't until I commit to reading the poem slowly that I can get into it. This is a terrible quality to have, because poetry is so much about the weight of each individual word... I'm learning, though. Thank you, grad school.

Anyway, I don't really have an inferiority complex because I wasn't ever going around thinking I was the next Elizabeth Bishop. I'm happy with my work, and I'm happy with my direction. I mean, obviously I'm loving what I'm writing and publishing and so forth. But it is important for me to keep working at the craft of it, and this is what Bishop reminds me to do.

Earlier this week, I had my immersion project critique. It wasn't very satisfying, but that's the nature of this workshop class: one person makes a comment about your poetry, the teacher babbles for 20 minutes about something pointless, and then there is dead silence. It's not the world's most productive workshop.

This week, I had a whole hour devoted to me, me, me. Sounds great, right? It was somewhat interesting, but nothing spectacular. I got a lot of detailed, helpful written comments on my work, but the hour-long critiquing session was a big bore.

As for the ms itself, most of my peers waxed enthusiastic, but my professor didn't like it as much as she's liked some of the other stuff I've been writing recently. I appreciated that forthright opinion, because I kind of suspected as much. No, I don't think it's as good as some of the other stuff I've been writing recently.

My manuscript consists of six poems with photos (all the photos that I posted in this entry with accompanying poems) and six photo-poems (poems describing imaginary photos). I knew that my manuscript was a risk (in terms of being a type of writing I am not comfortable with yet) and it's uneven. I'm not certain if I am going to revise it or what. If I could make it really good, I could turn it into a chapbook type thing, complete with pictures. I just don't know if I could make it that good, if the raw material is there.

On the other hand, my professor handed back the last poem I wrote that wasn't part of the project. She commented that it was "perfect" and that I should get it on a broadside ASAP. (As I understand it, broadside is a one-sheet poem on super nice paper.) I don't like it quite enough to do a broadside of it, but I do appreciate the sentiment.

I am just sort of at a loss right now. I feel like my writing is going in so many different directions at once, and I need some kind of focus. How does one go about getting that, anyway? Aww, fuck it. I'll just write whatever comes out. Craft is the thing. Focus will be the next project.

In other news, I worked today, and for the first time in a long time, didn't end the day in excruciating pain. Which is odd, because I didn't get to the chiropractor at all this week. (I think I need to switch doctors to one in the East Bay-- getting to the city three days a week is not so easy.) But yay! I am only in a mild amount of pain. This is an improvement.

It's already Christmastime at Starbucks. It's sort of making me nauseous right now. I have to wear a bright red shirt and listen to Christmas music all day. It's not even Thanksgiving! It's all so blatantly mercantile and "Christian nation" and stuff. And yet, it's so cheerful, what with the bright red cups and all. (Representing Christmas, or the Antichrist? You decide.) I am a sucker for the holiday cheer.

I love Christmas carols. I really do. Except "Little Drummer Boy," I love them all. I was working bar today and making the dreaded Eggnog Latte (dreaded because it's a pain in the ass to steam the eggnog) and singing right along with all the songs. My co-worker said, "Wow, how lucky for the customers that they get to hear you sing today. I only wish I wasn't going home right now, so I could stay and listen to you sing even more!"

Sarcasm, party of one?

It was a good day, though, another one of those days when I dig my silly job. We were reading this application that a girl had filled in as if she was running for office. "Why do you want to work for Starbucks?" it asked, and she wrote: "I have always enjoyed partaking in Starbucks beverages at many locations. From the Mocha Frappuccino to the Caramel Macchiatto, I have found Starbucks beverages to be flavorful and enticing."

We cracked up. My manager said, "Who the hell writes like that? 'From East to West... from North to South... this land is my land...'" Within five minutes, we had written a tribute number. "This Frapp is your Frapp / this Frapp is my Frapp / from the Macchiatto / to the Grande Wet Cap / from the Quad Espresso / to the Venti Mo-o-ocha / This drink was made for you and me..."

We're not normal people, at Starbucks, but we do have fun.

I've been cataloguing my videotapes for the last couple of days-- there's a snoozer of a project for you. But I have about a billion tapes with nothing to indicate what is on them. So I pop one into the VCR while I'm doing other things, and write down what's on the tape.

I have learned how much I truly suck at keeping my videotapes organized. I am good about Friends. I mean, a stray episode turns up here or there, but I have four tapes of Friends episodes (labeled Volumes I, II, III, IV in the only bit of coherent logic I have ever applied to my videotapes) that have only Friends episodes on them. I got out of the habit of taping Friends a while back, but ever since you-know-when, I've been in need of them as comfort viewing. So I tape episodes from syndication, and quickly fill up tapes that way.

I am terrible about Buffy, which I seem to tape at random. I have one or two videotapes with almost all Buffy on them (albeit completely out of order) but I also have about seventy videotapes containing a bunch of completely useless shit (like old episodes of Ally McBeal, which I now loathe) and then a Buffy episode right in the middle, then more uselessness.

You may have come to suspect the truth behind this video watching: my real project is mining for my favorite Buffy episodes. I've run across a whole lot of Riley/Adam-era stuff, which is just horrifying, but I was thrilled to discover "Dopplegangland" (Vamp Willow comes to Sunnydale) on a tape last night. No idea I had it; forgot how great it was.

Yet, I haven't found some of my favorite episodes. I know I have "Hush" somewhere, but damned if I know where. And I forgot that "The Body" opens up with a totally misleading happy scene, so I had no idea what episode it was and that shot of Joyce's dead body totally blindsided me.

I really want to see "Band Candy" right now, to feed my Giles-obsession (see here), and "Lover's Walk" just for that "love isn't brains, children" speech from Spike, but I have no idea if they're floating around somewhere or not. I spent three days downloading "Something Blue" for all the B/S stuff-- on a 56K modem, it's hardly worth it.

Speaking of which (why yes, I am going to keep babbling about Buffy now, thanks for asking) I sometimes forget that it wasn't until last week's episode that Buffy and Spike really kissed for the first time. We've seen them kiss so much-- in his fantasy sequences, when Buffybot was around, and under the influences of spells-- but never for "real," until last week. So a delayed "yay for salami" is in order!

(Yes, I think they're hot together. Obviously.)

(No, "yay for salami" is not a sexual reference. It's an old Whose Line is it, Anyway? line. Sadly, my college roommate stole my best Whose Line tape, with that episode and many others on it. I used to force Bruce and Tim to watch them all, until we couldn't stop quoting them. "Horse, horse, horse on a roof..." "Yay for salami!" "They won't suspect a thing, Arnold." "The keys? Hummina hummina! I think I left them outside! In the watermelon! As unlikely as that may seem." "What are you doing with that squeegie bottle?")

And furthermore, I got the best thing in the mail today (since last week, when Ivee sent me a "Once More, With Feeling" soundtrack.) Am I allowed to say what it is? I'm not sure. Therefore I will give it a code name. I will call it a "collection of paper with words and dialogue on it" regarding a "musical episode" of a "certain television show."

That way nobody will suspect what it actually is-- or how happy I am to have it in my hot little hands.

"I guess this is why I'm an agnostic. From the Greek, meaning 'not to know' or, 'I don't have any fucking answers here.' I don't know. I don't have a pat conclusion for you, and such is life.

There isn't one."