{notes for the eventual film}

when they make the movie of my life, somebody make sure they include the part where I spend an entire California afternoon unwashed in my underwear taping poems and fragments to the wall of a pre-furnished apartment in an attempt to figure out what the hell this book is about.

I've determined that the reason I can't make headway in the supposed second book is that the first one's not right, not done. so it turns out that the woman's not just going mad because she is, but because the world is a mad sick place and insanity might be the only reasonable response for a thinking artist with such thin skin.

SO using Brenda Hillman's Loose Sugar concept, I'm taking the poems and developing a sort of two-pronged narrative where the writer/speaker is trying to create this book and cope with her own demons while simultaneously being bombarded with the hurt and screaming world via radio and TV and print... this is not easy. this may require more boundary-destruction than I possess.

but we shall see. for now, there are poems taped to my wall, and a few sequences that I believe are working, and I'm about to leave for a week and let that all ferment. which requires that I pack, a task I've yet to begin.

I should probably also eat at some point.

Edgar Allen Poe said:
Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence – whether much that is glorious – whether all that is profound – does not spring from disease of thought – from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.