life rx 3 mar 24
the picture in my head is my reward
the chariot, and a poem from Leopoldine Core’s Veronica Bench:
MFA PROGRAM
a person
destroyed
by improvement
the aleatory
In MFA programs, it is common to be wrong about what the work is. It is easy to begin thinking that writing something that gets moos of pleasure from 12 people sitting around a table is the work, or figuring out how to moo with pleasure when you feel none is the work, or getting to drive a famous poet to the airport is the work. There are people who can explain why their poems make sense, but they write bad poems. There are poems that are terrible and make no sense, but they’re good poems. Why does “making sense” mean being logical, instead of making something that feels right? There’s a scam in there somewhere. I wonder who started it. This is the work: You have to make a home for your magic to live in. It has to be strong. It has to keep people out, sometimes. It has to be definite. And you can’t let anyone else’s magic, or lack of magic, live inside. There is a no, there is a limit, there is a brick wall. And that’s so the magic can sleep soundly, grow old, and become wise.
the assignment
Resolve to disappoint someone. (Don’t worry: it will not kill them. As my brilliant high school English teacher Mrs. Hatfield would say when I was worried about something, “Will there be skulls?” No. There will be no skulls.)
writing prompt
Carve out a place. Make a wall to keep your magic safe. Be mean if you have to.
a chune
“patterns of a diamond ceiling” by Marnie Stern
I <3 you Marnie, this is my fight song. Reader, even if you never really listen to the chunes, please listen to this one. A) It’s heavy B) it will keep you going.
credits: credits: small spells tarot deck by Rachel Howe
Veronica Bench by Leopoldine Core
“Patterns of a Diamond Ceiling” by Marnie Stern
Dear diary, I figured out something important today: art solves problems. It does. It fucking does. Books solve problems. Music solves problems. It’s hard to articulate exactly what these problems are sometimes, but they are no less real, and no book has ever been bought or read that solved no problems. Sometimes we lie about what problem we’re solving when we buy a book. We can solve problems in better and worse ways. And god knows we don’t all have the same problems. Which is FINE. lol. I’ve had problems with the idea of “being of service” because I am practically allergic to that language at this point. It sounds so shifty and mealy-mouthed to me. Maybe because I heard it most often in the context of religious subservience, and maybe because it feels like there’s some ideological narrowness about how service is at the expense of a self. But solving problems, I like that. I like thinking about it. I’m down. X Sarah