Late Notes Post 9/11-plus-10

I said on facebook I'd just take footage I got in Boston, make something, and be done with it--just writing/visual art from here on out. But no, may as well ride it out into 2012. I really expect something fundamental in all our lives to change by then--if not, then the universe sure fooled me. What that shift will be I don’t know, but certainly something. With all the corruption, if I was a visitor to this small planet, checking in, I’d expect to find that if you’re an American poet, you’d be foaming at the mouth. I’m an American poet I suppose, if only in that I’m American and have been attempting poetry since before I was a teenager--and writing poetry is always attempt, whether or not it rings true is hit or miss. But I drink espresso and beer, and smoke cigarettes and cannabis like a chimney. Now I do what my assistant principle at middle school used to do (who I met with often at the time). His name was Mr. Simone, Italian or Persian or something, I never knew--something dark-eyed/hair--to the point and always on point. And he’d get to talking, then yelling, and this foam would build up, and before you knew it you were getting sprayed. I’m not like that exactly, I’m conscious like a woman in knowing if I need a drink of water, or to wipe my mouth while talking. I have had stuff fly out though. I always immediately touch my finger to my lips, to kind of try and let the person who just saw it know I know spit just flew out of my mouth. What’s maybe even more embarrassing than a ding of spit flying out of your mouth is an actual teeny bubble. Ever seen a teeny bubble fly out? Anyway, there’s this saying about being wary of battling monsters, that you might become one yourself. I’m not sure if I’ve become a monster, or if I’m just a poet mad for the truth. Probably both at this point. I really do need to stop smoking and drinking as much as I do. Whatever happens, I know I still love creating art and watching late sunlight on Earth.