"I miss so many lovely moments when I'm being a bitch"

All that time you were being a bitch you could have just been having a good time.

All that time you were keeping yourself separate from the group you could have just gone along with the flow and all the other people would have less of a reason to write you off as a bitch.

All that time you could have been nice to everyone instead of telling people about your weird and esoteric beliefs and interests.

All that time you kept your headphones on you could have been asking another person about their life and maybe you would realize that you're not that different from other people.

All that time you were so suspicious of everyone new and thinking they have bad intentions for you, you could have been cool and open and accepted them without judgment and allowed them to reveal themselves in time.

All that time your fear of people kept you in a reactive state of feeling salty and sorry for yourself you could have tried to rationalize your feelings and worries and just act like a normal person.

It’s like the first line of a poem. You don’t hold your breath and panic. You breathe and move with it.

photo by Rohan DaCosta

The freedom of blogging

It’s been years since I was blogging every day. When I was unemployed, I kept myself active by finding adventures to go on in my neighborhood, taking photos, and writing about whatever I wanted. Those days were some of the best days of my life. I felt sharp. I wrote all the time, every day, and even if what I had to say was insignificant, I still said it without embarrassment fear of judgment.

I felt free, and since I had little else to do I just did what I wanted. If I wanted to talk about a scary dream I had, I blogged about it. If I had an idea for a cool Halloween costume that I had no intention of putting together, I blogged about. I blogged about my day. I blogged about my cat. I blogged about my outfits. I blogged about my neighbor’s lawn gnomes. I blogged about things that annoyed me. And people read my blogs.

Before I was collecting my poetry and writings into documents to be published by indie presses, I was blogging and making zines. I didn’t know anyone in the lit world, and the people who were reading my blog posts were either finding them by searching on google and seeing links to my blog come up in keyword searches or they were fellow bloggers whose blog posts I read and commented on who were reading my blog in an act of community. It was simpler times.

I stopped blogging because I was trying to take my writing more seriously. I started getting my writing published by more established venues. In retrospect, my blog was pretty silly, maybe even cringey at times. I was just blogging my feelings, but in time I ended up deactivating my blog to prevent a larger audience from knowing about my feelings.

Now I have my own website. It feels pretty professional. And I’m trying to blog again. Or I’m realizing I can blog again. I can write whatever I want and post it on my own website. It feels good.

Baby Alexandra drinking tea at China Castle, circa 1989

WITH YOU: Withdrawn Poetry of the #MeToo Movement

I have a piece in With You that was supposed to be published by a press whose founder was later outed as a predator. I’m honored to be included in this collection (which you may purchaser here!) and all proceeds go to support #MeToo whistleblowers in their legal efforts.

Below is a repost from Peach Mag

Don't miss this chance to stand with survivors of sexual abuse and harassment:

Peach is celebrating the one-year anniversary of With You: Withdrawn Poetry of the #MeToo Movement with a 25% off sale through this Sunday, November 17 (11:59 PM).

All profits from the anthology, which features 16 poets who withdrew work from journals and publishing houses following the #MeToo movement's exposure of predatory gatekeepers in the literary world, are donated to the TIME'S UP Legal Defense Fund, a program administered by the National Women's Law Center that supports the brave individuals who have come forward—at great risk to themselves—to seek the justice they deserve and to protect others from similar behavior. Peach has already donated more than $500 in sales of With You to the fund. 

With an introductory essay by Peach Senior Poetry Editor Liz Bowen that was originally withdrawn from publication with a major American journal, this anthology serves as an example of alternatives to publishing with known abusers and those who protect them.