Wednesday, September 12, 2018

It's Been Awhile, Hasn't It?

Two years, in fact.

I haven't touched this blog since the last time I did the August Postcard Poetry Festival.

So, what's been going on with you?

Since we were last here, a lot of stuff as happened.

(Awkward pause as we all think about what an understatement that is. Yeah, stuff has definitely happened since September 2016, hasn't it?)

There have been many moments since 2016 where I have wondered if there was a point to any of this, if my work had any value whatsoever, if I was just wasting energy that should be spent fighting?But then, there have been many moments where I run across something brilliant (like REVENGE by Elisa Chavez) and I am reminded that YES, there absolutely is a point to this, that art is also a medium for protest, a medium for inspiration, a medium for hope. Art can change the world.

So I persist. I write. I glue pieces of paper to other pieces of paper. I stopped my Allure subscription and started getting Vogue because I thought the pictures might inspire me more (I am still undecided as to whether that has been the case). I am not sure that anything I make has value*, but it isn't up to me to decide. I just need to keep doing it and putting it out there.

I also need external motivation because, left to my own devices, I am not going to create as much as I should and I definitely will not submit as much as I should.

Which brings me to the August Postcard Poetry Festival. I really enjoy the challenge of creating postcards, writing a poem, and then mailing it off to a stranger. Every day. I didn't do the festival in 2017 because last August, we went camping in Eastern Oregon to see the eclipse. This year, though, I found my calendar completely empty in August and there was no excuse not to try this again.

So here we are.

Please feel free to give me feedback.


* For example-One of my collages from the August, 2016 festival was accepted for the anthology 56 Days of August. Instead of being happy, I was salty because they did not also accept one of the poems I submitted. The glass is always half empty for me.


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