Myriad colors of flame shimmered
all around the walls of my room
This brought back memories of you
How we watched together
these reflections,
Rainbows of colors
Shimmering on my bedroom walls
Chanting praise to the zig-zagged rows
of shimmery sequins on my rainbow dress
Reflecting vibrant lights
in kaleidoscope colors
Shimmering reflections of cut crystal,
Prisms of sun's light reflecting through
my western window I move through the
shimmers, the glimmers of colors,
Reflecting on my pale white skin,
No, not translucently white,
You know there are many colors of white
Getting into here a diatribe of colors.
I'm white you know, but my skin has a pinkish glow.
Yeah, you can see my veins sometimes,
in some places, but not in all places all the time
But lets get back to the reflections of myriad colors
Dancing in kaleidoscope lights across my bedroom walls
Me walking through these colors butt naked
Rainbows of colors reflected across my naked pink
Glowing body in kaleidoscope lights
Red, purple, gold, orange too, even blue and green lights
I feel like a multi colored leopard
Padding around my rainbow spotted room
Think of all these colors in uneven splotches
Reflected in my big bedroom mirrors,
Crystallizing dancing lights
All over my pink glowing body
As I dance to the dancing lights
© 1994
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Happy New Year Everyone
Submission guidelines
May your new year be all that you wish it be; blessed be.
We bare ourselves – down to our easily assailable and accessible frail frames to be known in the biblical sense as well as the primary sense when we (writers) create a new true being – a character who others relate to. Everything I spit is born two entities, how the other sees himself and my vision of that person. Since childhood my visions of the world has been very adult having had my parent’s bitter life view force-fed me since my birth. The way this affects me is that I relate to the world by constantly studying everyone around me since we are all cast in our own life drama novels anyway. No one wants to live in a drama but we often do even when it’s third hand or when we are just all “watchers” like in the fringe or living inside Jackson’s Lottery.
A long time ago – in two separate universes – one undergraduate writing class at Columbia University General Studies and the other two decades later in the Master’s Degree Creative Writing Program at The City University of New York City, A comment/ question was made regarding my style.
A fellow student said, “her characters lack any empathy; for my part they’re completely lacking. Why should I care about them?”
Basically both professors said the same; “The point is not whether you like them or not, but that you feel something about them. You may not like her characters, but they are real enough to tick you off. I care about what her characters will do next and that’s more important than liking or not liking them because that will keep me reading!” After this the class calmed down about my characters’ personalities. All I can guess is that they led more conservative sheltered circumscribed lives than me.
Not to disappoint but I also had the opposite happen with a weak instructor who later stole a few lines from my writing. He asked for my complete novel and I stupidly gave it to him. The class said I’d already presented enough when one of those times was an assignment no one else did – we were asked to choose a character from history and write a page or two about them. I read mine since no one else had one. Ah well, I was disappointed he didn’t defend me since I clearly hadn’t presented my two short stories. It bothered me but I pity him too as he hasn’t written anything worth reading in a while after he stooped to a new low. No one else from there gained name fame either so ... onwards all to a new phase and forgetting the past!
Creative people often set a standard and in that standard social commentary is included. If you don’t like a character I’ve made, that character has already served his purpose because he has provoked your dislike and judgments.
Writing is all I know and the only way to show true purpose. I’m also part of my own commentary emerging from a consistently frightful analytic mind. That said, like everyone else, I only want to be my best.
Ta Da!
Back to where we began:May your new year be all that you wish it be; blessed be.
Monday, December 28, 2009
BEING JEWISH
The plague of my life has always been
I’m not Jewish enough to be Jewish
Although over the years I’ve had several
Jewish girl friends, I can count them on one hand
No Jewish man has ever wanted me except
for some really despicable Jewish male perverts
and I’ve never figured out the reason
why I’ve always been an outcast among my
own people, and then, even my therapist told me
“It’s all because you don’t know the difference
between a schlemiel and a schlimazel,” I said
to my therapist, “Andy, don’t be a schlemiel,
a schlemiel is a jerk and schlimazel means
an inept jerk who’s persistently luckless.”
“No,” he said, “you’re wrong and even Ellen
knows the difference,” “Oh com’on” I said,
“what is there to know, you’re making this
up to tease me,” “Oh no I’m not,” he said,
“a schlemiel is someone who
is Jewish who doesn’t know
how to tie his tie properly
and the other is what you said.”
I do wonder what Andy’s going on about
My mother was Jewish orthodox and
my father was Russian Jew and how
much more Jewish can you get than that?
The point is, ... I’m still not Jewish enough ...
Then he said “Even a Jewish atheist would know-
-but the gist of it is, that you don’t know enough
about the culture to be with a Jewish man
who gets pleasure from being around other Jews
who can understand the language they speak.”
What can I do?
Being an outcast
is difficult at best!
© 2005 More of my "jewish" poetry can be seen at http://joyleftow.com
I’m not Jewish enough to be Jewish
Although over the years I’ve had several
Jewish girl friends, I can count them on one hand
No Jewish man has ever wanted me except
for some really despicable Jewish male perverts
and I’ve never figured out the reason
why I’ve always been an outcast among my
own people, and then, even my therapist told me
“It’s all because you don’t know the difference
between a schlemiel and a schlimazel,” I said
to my therapist, “Andy, don’t be a schlemiel,
a schlemiel is a jerk and schlimazel means
an inept jerk who’s persistently luckless.”
“No,” he said, “you’re wrong and even Ellen
knows the difference,” “Oh com’on” I said,
“what is there to know, you’re making this
up to tease me,” “Oh no I’m not,” he said,
“a schlemiel is someone who
is Jewish who doesn’t know
how to tie his tie properly
and the other is what you said.”
I do wonder what Andy’s going on about
My mother was Jewish orthodox and
my father was Russian Jew and how
much more Jewish can you get than that?
The point is, ... I’m still not Jewish enough ...
Then he said “Even a Jewish atheist would know-
-but the gist of it is, that you don’t know enough
about the culture to be with a Jewish man
who gets pleasure from being around other Jews
who can understand the language they speak.”
What can I do?
Being an outcast
is difficult at best!
© 2005 More of my "jewish" poetry can be seen at http://joyleftow.com
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
MORE ON DAD’S ABILITIES, Part 5
My Dad was a music man. He played the violin
like his father and grandfather before him
stroking it for the breath of an angel
He played everything by ear
He could compel any violin to his will
Dad wasn’t allowed to be a violinist
instead, he was forced to leave school to
work as an apprentice in a drug store
And he became a pharmacist
bitter to the core, never learning
what it was to express himself freely
to enrich his spirit by playing music
He only played his violin to gain
relief and solace from his burden
of helping to support his family
Pity, because Dad should’ve been a
musician giving life to a violin
©2002 re-edited 2009
like his father and grandfather before him
stroking it for the breath of an angel
He played everything by ear
He could compel any violin to his will
Dad wasn’t allowed to be a violinist
instead, he was forced to leave school to
work as an apprentice in a drug store
And he became a pharmacist
bitter to the core, never learning
what it was to express himself freely
to enrich his spirit by playing music
He only played his violin to gain
relief and solace from his burden
of helping to support his family
Pity, because Dad should’ve been a
musician giving life to a violin
©2002 re-edited 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
HOLIDAY CELEBRATION
Life is a carousel of dreams
The famous radio therapist armond demille wrote me his words linger in my head get off your carousel of pain
allow me to help you
as a fellow therapist with professional courtesy due you, I’ll charge you only three hundred a session, a concession in my normal fees, I’ll cure you of your anomaly, your obsessions, give me your confession sacrifice your worldly possessions give up your attachments there’ll be no regression, I’m so darn good at my profession – no more transgressions no more depression
no more digression back to the blues tonight
I can’t be perfect I can only be me
A man stopped me at target all smiles, making eye contact, he nods.
merry Christmas to you. I don’t celebrate Christmas. I respond, you’re smiling so much you’re so happy why?
Ah happy with family at Christmas u must celebrate something too what r u
I don’t know what I am Call me Jewish Buddhist if you want –
But you look happy he said Looks are deceiving I said You joke he said you’re happy I see you smile really I said I’m always blue I don’t believe you
I don’t know how to limit myself to one religion
Dubblex is confused they always pick you – why your pretty face in a store full of women- there are so many women around why do they always come to u - he accused
Innocence devious claim to name fame our goals
The “all religion” ~ old religion
all religions are one – the word shall be one shall be done in heart space mind prevails so many travails hate to fail no bailing out I wail in my own jail hit the nail on the head
the world shall be one
one one one (((((((((oneoneoneoneoneoneone))))))) the one and one Irie
lightening and thunder
one nation under god indivisible with liberty and justice for all
one people united by love with peace and justice for all
I want the world on a string to spin in my my my my my my heart’s spin in a gleam with a ream of justice in economy for all full of bull
A wedding ring an office slur poetry in the afterlife
nose too big stomach too flabby
It’s inflatable unpredictable accounts payable receivable I’m not accountable for your bills my assets are not bequeathable retractable to your psycho babble circumscribable to your collectable circumstancial financials I’m familiar with the details
Fastidious and obsessive compulsive a hidden insidious agenda oblivious to the truth
I keep up with doctor ruth who lives in my hood
Embracing brotherhood understood under the fresh scent of cedarwood tree
The world will imbibe truth like a newborn with a new milk tooth
forsooth my youth I search like a sleuth
for the word shall be the truth
and the truth will set me free
Monday, December 07, 2009
I Am ...
I am a woman who’s had a hard life,
a woman of great lust, a survivor of strife
a woman graced by starlight and the morning star
a woman of delight nourished by dreams from afar
I am a woman who’s soul has been drained
drained and replenished again and again
a woman wrenched fiercely from all
that I’ve loved
who’s had moments of satiety, sobriety,
wonder and lust
a woman who rarely experiences trust
I am a woman who is secure and insecure
I know what I have and how to use it
but also fear its loss
I am a woman who possesses
great energy and insight
who owns potency as much as any
man I’ve ever met
I am a woman of great determination,
initiative and skill
Some say I’m opinionated, afraid I’ll bend
them to my will
they ignore my flexibility,
concentrate on my fear,
not seeing my ability
to metamorphasize,
to go with the flow
I am a woman not easily beaten
I have stamina for sure
I am a woman who will never give up
Who will be eighty and be active sexually,
still growing, mothering and loving
I am a woman who will always be strong,
it may continue forever, if I have another life
I will never give up - will never give up - never give up
I am a woman who works hard for all
that I have and all that I’ve lost
A survivor, a winner, a mover, a lover,
and someone’s mother
when threatened in her lair
a woman of strong suspicions, angers and fears
I am a woman who loves many people
who’s chosen profession is proof of love’s power
I am a woman who will fight ferociously
I am a woman who possesses great power
with ability to bestow great love
I give to all who have been disavowed,
hurt, abused and neglected
I am a woman defined by desire,
a risk taker by choice,
a woman with large sensitivity,
charm, and proclivity,
I am a woman who will always do more
© 2005
a woman of great lust, a survivor of strife
a woman graced by starlight and the morning star
a woman of delight nourished by dreams from afar
I am a woman who’s soul has been drained
drained and replenished again and again
a woman wrenched fiercely from all
that I’ve loved
who’s had moments of satiety, sobriety,
wonder and lust
a woman who rarely experiences trust
I am a woman who is secure and insecure
I know what I have and how to use it
but also fear its loss
I am a woman who possesses
great energy and insight
who owns potency as much as any
man I’ve ever met
I am a woman of great determination,
initiative and skill
Some say I’m opinionated, afraid I’ll bend
them to my will
they ignore my flexibility,
concentrate on my fear,
not seeing my ability
to metamorphasize,
to go with the flow
I am a woman not easily beaten
I have stamina for sure
I am a woman who will never give up
Who will be eighty and be active sexually,
still growing, mothering and loving
I am a woman who will always be strong,
it may continue forever, if I have another life
I will never give up - will never give up - never give up
I am a woman who works hard for all
that I have and all that I’ve lost
A survivor, a winner, a mover, a lover,
and someone’s mother
when threatened in her lair
a woman of strong suspicions, angers and fears
I am a woman who loves many people
who’s chosen profession is proof of love’s power
I am a woman who will fight ferociously
I am a woman who possesses great power
with ability to bestow great love
I give to all who have been disavowed,
hurt, abused and neglected
I am a woman defined by desire,
a risk taker by choice,
a woman with large sensitivity,
charm, and proclivity,
I am a woman who will always do more
© 2005
Sunday, December 06, 2009
city bus intrusion
The young brunette on my left turned to me
donned a pair of huge square shaped red rimmed sunglasses with green lenses
the price tag still hanging from the frame
How do these look, she asked.
The bottoms of each rim slid smoothly over her cheekbones almost reaching the end of her nose
what’s the point I said unless you need to hide your face because you’re a famous movie star or you want to fool people into thinking you’re one.
I don’t see why you’d want to cover up such a lovely face.
She enigmatically pulled another pair from her purse
How about these she said enthusiastically
Putting on a translucent purple-rimmed frame with gray lenses
a slim lined cats’ eye wrap around shade
exposing high cheekbones and smooth skin
Hmm I said I like these better, you look mysterious
plus your pretty face isn’t hidden away
The matronly lady on her other side scolded me
how rude you are to say that
Those red glasses are perfectly lovely
they fit you divinely
she said to my seatmate smiling
Well I prefer the violet and she did ask my opinion
Would you have rather have me lie?
I see many women wearing those big framed ugly glasses and it doesn’t do much for them either
You asked my opinion didn’t you want to know it?
The young lady put the mammoth red framed glasses back on and turned to her new BFF
Those look very nice dear, the old lady said, I like these best
They suit you just fine
Ah me too said the young girl putting away the violet ones
I like these best too she said, turning away from me
I think I’ll wear these
© another true story by violet
donned a pair of huge square shaped red rimmed sunglasses with green lenses
the price tag still hanging from the frame
How do these look, she asked.
The bottoms of each rim slid smoothly over her cheekbones almost reaching the end of her nose
what’s the point I said unless you need to hide your face because you’re a famous movie star or you want to fool people into thinking you’re one.
I don’t see why you’d want to cover up such a lovely face.
She enigmatically pulled another pair from her purse
How about these she said enthusiastically
Putting on a translucent purple-rimmed frame with gray lenses
a slim lined cats’ eye wrap around shade
exposing high cheekbones and smooth skin
Hmm I said I like these better, you look mysterious
plus your pretty face isn’t hidden away
The matronly lady on her other side scolded me
how rude you are to say that
Those red glasses are perfectly lovely
they fit you divinely
she said to my seatmate smiling
Well I prefer the violet and she did ask my opinion
Would you have rather have me lie?
I see many women wearing those big framed ugly glasses and it doesn’t do much for them either
You asked my opinion didn’t you want to know it?
The young lady put the mammoth red framed glasses back on and turned to her new BFF
Those look very nice dear, the old lady said, I like these best
They suit you just fine
Ah me too said the young girl putting away the violet ones
I like these best too she said, turning away from me
I think I’ll wear these
© another true story by violet
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Kick These Blues Around - bluetry #11
Vanilla frost skies roll thunder tributaries to another universe from my inner space continuum
peace into practice, activ -ity verily elemental I say unto you fred while I inadvertently turn my head
Got my flow on the rhythm of the down low joe if you know where to go to catch my drift
Ejaculation crashed against shores of revolution still seeking solutions in slow jerks instead of bred he offered her concrete proposals and requested favors for which he gave her candy.
No worries, took the devil’s deal and he even refused my original proposal.
I’m that bad - hear your belly laugh.
I’m a kind-of lonely kind-er-garten-er longing for laughter. Humanity’s incipient recipient spiritual guide hovers near offers incise insipid bites of one size fits all incrementing advice for what it’s worth – let the dogs out - cash out on lock down blues let loose to see what they do, a trombone’s misery, the down home blues conspiracy
Poetry thunder back in the day in a smoky cafe in east Harlem reading next to alan ginsberg, no go, not the me you know the one I was back then when I met him.
All right it’s a downright lie. Met him at a dark dank theatre in the east Village with his 20-year old boy toy. Which version do ya’ like better?
Poetry, networking, writing editing posting - promoting, poet @ poetry poetessing protesting being me, do you do what I do every day ~ do I do enough to satisfy you madame ginsberg, establish exacerbate emolliate emancipate your rage, engage you in becoming your age. Do you no write from wrong? Are you worried I’m not free enough of need to write like I’ve come undone, my fury unleashed turned fairy into solemnity Mary in May when I tried to wine and dine her, she made me dismantle my soul instead.
Soul inspiration you’re too old to decay before the sunset light my fire outside your soul’s window while I sing my blues to you.
Aching all over wonder how long I’ll survive to a hundred and five maybe eighty five wtf I don’t know what to do when I do what you do when I become you in my flurry frost forsaken fury lust lettered red. Memory records voices run on in my head on elemental disk space in my brain. Penis in my hands, a dandy thing, a dick & pussy. Silly putty pussy, eye-scan. Penis inside brain scan
desire ~ diaries she told me the history of her pussy it made me want to join the line.
Strangle out negatives no undo’s to become undone- progressive linear faith while awaiting with grace won in non linear to do getting done - proceed in all directions at once abstractions go back and forth with a new mazed dawn suddenly seeing new energy forms, intrinsic instinctual inhabitable happiness, death a no go to provenience
Liberty the right to pursue happiness peace hand held evolution a solution dedicated to the handstand I stand on end about to implode explode my spaghetti solutions to allusion gut solved evolutions pour out my ass-ness with sassiness a little fruitfulness
Lettuce find the source of the force lost in series of unfortunate masquerades of delusion, an allusion to who I am, an illusion, illustration for the children my minds been set a fire.
Catch a fire you’re gonna get burned.
peace into practice, activ -ity verily elemental I say unto you fred while I inadvertently turn my head
Got my flow on the rhythm of the down low joe if you know where to go to catch my drift
Ejaculation crashed against shores of revolution still seeking solutions in slow jerks instead of bred he offered her concrete proposals and requested favors for which he gave her candy.
No worries, took the devil’s deal and he even refused my original proposal.
I’m that bad - hear your belly laugh.
I’m a kind-of lonely kind-er-garten-er longing for laughter. Humanity’s incipient recipient spiritual guide hovers near offers incise insipid bites of one size fits all incrementing advice for what it’s worth – let the dogs out - cash out on lock down blues let loose to see what they do, a trombone’s misery, the down home blues conspiracy
Poetry thunder back in the day in a smoky cafe in east Harlem reading next to alan ginsberg, no go, not the me you know the one I was back then when I met him.
All right it’s a downright lie. Met him at a dark dank theatre in the east Village with his 20-year old boy toy. Which version do ya’ like better?
Poetry, networking, writing editing posting - promoting, poet @ poetry poetessing protesting being me, do you do what I do every day ~ do I do enough to satisfy you madame ginsberg, establish exacerbate emolliate emancipate your rage, engage you in becoming your age. Do you no write from wrong? Are you worried I’m not free enough of need to write like I’ve come undone, my fury unleashed turned fairy into solemnity Mary in May when I tried to wine and dine her, she made me dismantle my soul instead.
Soul inspiration you’re too old to decay before the sunset light my fire outside your soul’s window while I sing my blues to you.
Aching all over wonder how long I’ll survive to a hundred and five maybe eighty five wtf I don’t know what to do when I do what you do when I become you in my flurry frost forsaken fury lust lettered red. Memory records voices run on in my head on elemental disk space in my brain. Penis in my hands, a dandy thing, a dick & pussy. Silly putty pussy, eye-scan. Penis inside brain scan
desire ~ diaries she told me the history of her pussy it made me want to join the line.
Strangle out negatives no undo’s to become undone- progressive linear faith while awaiting with grace won in non linear to do getting done - proceed in all directions at once abstractions go back and forth with a new mazed dawn suddenly seeing new energy forms, intrinsic instinctual inhabitable happiness, death a no go to provenience
Liberty the right to pursue happiness peace hand held evolution a solution dedicated to the handstand I stand on end about to implode explode my spaghetti solutions to allusion gut solved evolutions pour out my ass-ness with sassiness a little fruitfulness
Lettuce find the source of the force lost in series of unfortunate masquerades of delusion, an allusion to who I am, an illusion, illustration for the children my minds been set a fire.
Catch a fire you’re gonna get burned.
Friday, November 27, 2009
JOY'S COOKING tribute to hal sirowitz
Come on over here I said
You keep typing
and ain't paying
attention to me
Now that you're a poet
you're torturing me
making me wait to be with you
I’m a sensitive
new-age, macho-man
So, I'll be
through very soon
and be free to satisfy you, he said
as soon as I finish this
O.K. I said, I'll get
ready for you
An hour later
he was still revising when
suddenly he yelled out
Perfect, it's perfect now
What is I asked
You and the poem he replied
I'm not perfect, I denied
just the best
I've ever been
and the best
you've ever known
© 1994 Joy Leftow
You keep typing
and ain't paying
attention to me
Now that you're a poet
you're torturing me
making me wait to be with you
I’m a sensitive
new-age, macho-man
So, I'll be
through very soon
and be free to satisfy you, he said
as soon as I finish this
O.K. I said, I'll get
ready for you
An hour later
he was still revising when
suddenly he yelled out
Perfect, it's perfect now
What is I asked
You and the poem he replied
I'm not perfect, I denied
just the best
I've ever been
and the best
you've ever known
© 1994 Joy Leftow
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Neils great interview experiment
Neil Kramer from Citizen of the Month Blog does this Great Interview experiment which I jokingly agreed to participate in. As usual, the writing took a long time and then the editing of course took time too. In fact I edited my answers without knowing Cissa had already posted!
I thank Cissa Fireheart for thinking up such creative questions and for posting on her blog.
My interview of Alicia D. Beth follows here.
1. Your blog has a great deal of personal writings and photography. Do you primarily share on your blog?
My blog is definitely meant eventually to be a record for my children, both of their mother and of their lives growing up. My father died when I was 11, and I have this sort of nagging worry, always, that they may not know me as adults. I wish I had access to this kind of record about my dad and my childhood.
It’s a constant tension, though. I do want to write things that will interest other people, but I know this isn’t usually the case with the mundane details of life. I read a lot of mothers who are able to strike this balance – always engaging, including when writing about their children – but I don’t feel like I know how to do it yet. I’m not sure I ever will, but I’ll keep trying.
As far as the photography goes... Uf. This is a point of contention right now. We bought a *fantastic* camera when I was pregnant with my first son, and it lasted about seven years. When I went to buy a replacement, I thought an expensive point-and-shoot seven years newer would surely surpass in quality the SLR we were replacing. Not true. I definitely learned my lesson. I hate the piece of shit I’m using right now. I have a long-held interest in amateur photography – I took classes in college and thought about majoring in it – so it’s just not something I’m content to do poorly. I do have my eye on a couple DSLRs, though.
2. You’ve been blogging for 4 years. Has it changed since you began?
My first exposure to blogging was actually in 2000, during my pregnancy with my first son. My husband, Bradley, started what amounted to a “blog,” although I’m not sure we called it that then, at http://beth.cx (now defunct), to keep our families updated about the pregnancy and baby. A lot of bloggers start this way, I think, although it was definitely uncommon back then. Brad was a programmer, and he did all the code himself, so the site itself was pretty slick for 2000. :) We kept that site updated for two years or so, less and less frequently, before we let it lapse in 2002 or 2003.
Then, I started reading Allie Scott’s story (http://www.scotthousehold.com) in July 2004, shortly after my daughter was born. I read all the archives and kept reading beyond Allie’s death, Maggie’s birth, and Jenny’s startup of Heroes for Children (http://www.heroesforchildren.org/). I was so transformed by reading that blog, but it didn’t occur to me to start writing again myself until two years or so after we shut beth.cx down.
By then, February 2005, everything was a lot easier. I started a blog on blogspot (http://brownglass.blogspot.com, now defunct but all content has been integrated into Bethsix at http://bethsix.com), and I began hearing the word “blog,” both as a noun and verb, more and more frequently. There still wasn’t the sense of community, though. Many of the blogs I read now started around that same time, but I didn’t know about them. I wish I had; I probably would’ve been more consistent and stuck with it if I’d felt less isolated. The one blog I read religiously back then was Dooce (http://www.dooce.com). I thought she was brilliant, but I had no idea that such a community or such a multitude of voices would emerge from blogging the way it has.
I kept up the blogspot blog for a couple years before I fell off the wagon again. I started Bethsix (http://bethsix.com) shortly after another transformative experience, this time with Matt Logelin’s blog (http://www.mattlogelin.com), in December 2008. It was obvious to me then that I needed not only to engage with writing and stories like that, but that I needed just as much to express my own stories and engage with this community that had formed when I’d looked away.
3. I noted that sometimes you’ll blog as much as a dozen time a month and other times only a couple of times a month. Is there a reason for this, or is it simply a matter of when you have time?
It’s a function of time. I have four small children, a full-time job for which I travel quite a bit, and another part-time job. Writing frequently gets pushed to the bottom of the stack.
It’s also a function of my attempt to aggregate everything I’d written at different sites in one place. Bethsix (http://bethsix.com) now includes everything I wrote on blogspot, myspace, facebook, and wordpress.com (before I switched to a self-hosted format). The only thing not included is that first site we had in 2000. There was a non-trivial amount of time that I did not have a “blog,” per se, but I did post sporadically on my personal myspace and facebook accounts. Those months show up in my archives as very lean.
4. What is your motivation for your posts? Does the motivation change, or do you try to keep the blog on a theme of sorts?
I don’t try to keep up with any kind of theme, although I sometimes think my writing would be better if I did. I go through cycles. There are times when I’m so turned inward that all I’m doing is thinking, and those times lend themselves to writing. There are other times when I feel so taxed that all I feel I can do is stay afloat. Writing doesn’t seem to happen then, which may be a good thing, as I’m sure it would be poor and scattered.
That said, parenting is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done on a daily basis. I tend to write about my children and my parenting because they challenge me, always.
5. Does parenting inspire you or were you always creative and therefore your blog is a reflection of creative parenting?
Parenting is extremely difficult for me. I assume it’s this way for everyone, but it’s so damn isolating that it’s hard to even know. Conflict and struggle inspire me to think deeply and to reexamine assumptions, so, in this way, parenting inspires me. It forces me to consider difficult questions and to see my world in constant shades of gray. This kind of reflection lends itself to writing, I think.
6. Do you feel your blog will provide a history for your children and family that you can refer back to later?
Absolutely. This is one of my primary aims with my blog. I hope that my children will be able to look back and know me more fully through my words and the feelings I choose to express publicly.
7. What encourages you to continue blogging?
More than anything, it’s the other blogs I read. I have always appreciated excellent writing (this is not to say I’m able to pull it off myself!), and there are some writers in this new medium that have deeply complex stories to tell and profound words and ways to express them. I’m constantly finding blogs that are written by master storytellers, often people who have “real” jobs and lives well beyond their keyboards. Reading these keeps me engaged with the craft. Beyond that, it’s my own need to express. I’ve only recently realized that everyone has stories worth telling, including me.
8. Is your blogging and parenting intertwined?
Not intertwined, exactly, but parenting my children definitely provides fodder for my posts a lot of the time.
9. Has your blog lead to a lot of interaction with other bloggers doing similar things or different or both?
I only became re-engaged with blogging at the beginning of this year. Before Bethsix (http://bethsix.com), the last time I really wrote in earnest, the community surrounding blogging hadn’t really formed, at least not as cohesively as it has now. I’m trying to engage with other bloggers and the surrounding community, but it seems like it developed just as I turned my head. There are already all these alliances and friendships, and it’s just like real life, in that it’s difficult to insert yourself in already established relationships. These interactions will happen, I’m sure, but I’m kinda a new kid on the block right now.
In general, I tend to read other mothers, simply because that’s a huge area of experience to have in common with someone else, even if you see it and do it vastly differently. There are women I respect immensely, more so than most of the people I know in “real life,” women who *live* the principle of blogging as a radical act (Alice Bradley, http://www.finslippy.com), and those are the women from which I most want to learn.
10. What is the most important thing about blogging to you?
Writing, reading, expression, and community. These are the things that come to mind immediately. I’m not sure I can separate or prioritize them. There’s definitely the craft of it, the writing and the reading. But there’s the creative, expressive part, that’s just putting yourself and your thoughts out there, into a public forum to which you remain accountable. And then there’s the community.
In the end, I guess all these things are about relationships: writers and readers interacting via texts, writers and readers negotiating themselves via texts, and communities of individuals developing both online and in meatspace, all throwing stakes into the ground and committing themselves to ideas and dialogue and relationships.
I thank Cissa Fireheart for thinking up such creative questions and for posting on her blog.
My interview of Alicia D. Beth follows here.
1. Your blog has a great deal of personal writings and photography. Do you primarily share on your blog?
My blog is definitely meant eventually to be a record for my children, both of their mother and of their lives growing up. My father died when I was 11, and I have this sort of nagging worry, always, that they may not know me as adults. I wish I had access to this kind of record about my dad and my childhood.
It’s a constant tension, though. I do want to write things that will interest other people, but I know this isn’t usually the case with the mundane details of life. I read a lot of mothers who are able to strike this balance – always engaging, including when writing about their children – but I don’t feel like I know how to do it yet. I’m not sure I ever will, but I’ll keep trying.
As far as the photography goes... Uf. This is a point of contention right now. We bought a *fantastic* camera when I was pregnant with my first son, and it lasted about seven years. When I went to buy a replacement, I thought an expensive point-and-shoot seven years newer would surely surpass in quality the SLR we were replacing. Not true. I definitely learned my lesson. I hate the piece of shit I’m using right now. I have a long-held interest in amateur photography – I took classes in college and thought about majoring in it – so it’s just not something I’m content to do poorly. I do have my eye on a couple DSLRs, though.
2. You’ve been blogging for 4 years. Has it changed since you began?
My first exposure to blogging was actually in 2000, during my pregnancy with my first son. My husband, Bradley, started what amounted to a “blog,” although I’m not sure we called it that then, at http://beth.cx (now defunct), to keep our families updated about the pregnancy and baby. A lot of bloggers start this way, I think, although it was definitely uncommon back then. Brad was a programmer, and he did all the code himself, so the site itself was pretty slick for 2000. :) We kept that site updated for two years or so, less and less frequently, before we let it lapse in 2002 or 2003.
Then, I started reading Allie Scott’s story (http://www.scotthousehold.com) in July 2004, shortly after my daughter was born. I read all the archives and kept reading beyond Allie’s death, Maggie’s birth, and Jenny’s startup of Heroes for Children (http://www.heroesforchildren.org/). I was so transformed by reading that blog, but it didn’t occur to me to start writing again myself until two years or so after we shut beth.cx down.
By then, February 2005, everything was a lot easier. I started a blog on blogspot (http://brownglass.blogspot.com, now defunct but all content has been integrated into Bethsix at http://bethsix.com), and I began hearing the word “blog,” both as a noun and verb, more and more frequently. There still wasn’t the sense of community, though. Many of the blogs I read now started around that same time, but I didn’t know about them. I wish I had; I probably would’ve been more consistent and stuck with it if I’d felt less isolated. The one blog I read religiously back then was Dooce (http://www.dooce.com). I thought she was brilliant, but I had no idea that such a community or such a multitude of voices would emerge from blogging the way it has.
I kept up the blogspot blog for a couple years before I fell off the wagon again. I started Bethsix (http://bethsix.com) shortly after another transformative experience, this time with Matt Logelin’s blog (http://www.mattlogelin.com), in December 2008. It was obvious to me then that I needed not only to engage with writing and stories like that, but that I needed just as much to express my own stories and engage with this community that had formed when I’d looked away.
3. I noted that sometimes you’ll blog as much as a dozen time a month and other times only a couple of times a month. Is there a reason for this, or is it simply a matter of when you have time?
It’s a function of time. I have four small children, a full-time job for which I travel quite a bit, and another part-time job. Writing frequently gets pushed to the bottom of the stack.
It’s also a function of my attempt to aggregate everything I’d written at different sites in one place. Bethsix (http://bethsix.com) now includes everything I wrote on blogspot, myspace, facebook, and wordpress.com (before I switched to a self-hosted format). The only thing not included is that first site we had in 2000. There was a non-trivial amount of time that I did not have a “blog,” per se, but I did post sporadically on my personal myspace and facebook accounts. Those months show up in my archives as very lean.
4. What is your motivation for your posts? Does the motivation change, or do you try to keep the blog on a theme of sorts?
I don’t try to keep up with any kind of theme, although I sometimes think my writing would be better if I did. I go through cycles. There are times when I’m so turned inward that all I’m doing is thinking, and those times lend themselves to writing. There are other times when I feel so taxed that all I feel I can do is stay afloat. Writing doesn’t seem to happen then, which may be a good thing, as I’m sure it would be poor and scattered.
That said, parenting is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done on a daily basis. I tend to write about my children and my parenting because they challenge me, always.
5. Does parenting inspire you or were you always creative and therefore your blog is a reflection of creative parenting?
Parenting is extremely difficult for me. I assume it’s this way for everyone, but it’s so damn isolating that it’s hard to even know. Conflict and struggle inspire me to think deeply and to reexamine assumptions, so, in this way, parenting inspires me. It forces me to consider difficult questions and to see my world in constant shades of gray. This kind of reflection lends itself to writing, I think.
6. Do you feel your blog will provide a history for your children and family that you can refer back to later?
Absolutely. This is one of my primary aims with my blog. I hope that my children will be able to look back and know me more fully through my words and the feelings I choose to express publicly.
7. What encourages you to continue blogging?
More than anything, it’s the other blogs I read. I have always appreciated excellent writing (this is not to say I’m able to pull it off myself!), and there are some writers in this new medium that have deeply complex stories to tell and profound words and ways to express them. I’m constantly finding blogs that are written by master storytellers, often people who have “real” jobs and lives well beyond their keyboards. Reading these keeps me engaged with the craft. Beyond that, it’s my own need to express. I’ve only recently realized that everyone has stories worth telling, including me.
8. Is your blogging and parenting intertwined?
Not intertwined, exactly, but parenting my children definitely provides fodder for my posts a lot of the time.
9. Has your blog lead to a lot of interaction with other bloggers doing similar things or different or both?
I only became re-engaged with blogging at the beginning of this year. Before Bethsix (http://bethsix.com), the last time I really wrote in earnest, the community surrounding blogging hadn’t really formed, at least not as cohesively as it has now. I’m trying to engage with other bloggers and the surrounding community, but it seems like it developed just as I turned my head. There are already all these alliances and friendships, and it’s just like real life, in that it’s difficult to insert yourself in already established relationships. These interactions will happen, I’m sure, but I’m kinda a new kid on the block right now.
In general, I tend to read other mothers, simply because that’s a huge area of experience to have in common with someone else, even if you see it and do it vastly differently. There are women I respect immensely, more so than most of the people I know in “real life,” women who *live* the principle of blogging as a radical act (Alice Bradley, http://www.finslippy.com), and those are the women from which I most want to learn.
10. What is the most important thing about blogging to you?
Writing, reading, expression, and community. These are the things that come to mind immediately. I’m not sure I can separate or prioritize them. There’s definitely the craft of it, the writing and the reading. But there’s the creative, expressive part, that’s just putting yourself and your thoughts out there, into a public forum to which you remain accountable. And then there’s the community.
In the end, I guess all these things are about relationships: writers and readers interacting via texts, writers and readers negotiating themselves via texts, and communities of individuals developing both online and in meatspace, all throwing stakes into the ground and committing themselves to ideas and dialogue and relationships.
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