Plumtree's Potted Meat

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[sevastopoltales-deactivated2021]

You are the many-petalled melting point of repeating decimals …

Andrew Joron,| from ‘Spine to Spin, Spoke to Speak,’ in Trance Archive: New & Selected Poems (City Lights Books, 2010)

[poetsorg]

Today’s new poem is “Marriage: A Daybook” by Nicole Cooley.

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

My old professor/mentor's daughter has a poem up today--check it out. 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

easily anticipated post about mustering up my resolve to become a better more diligent blogger, again. 

(pending and predictable feelings lurking in the corner, parenthetically, about how the unlikeliness of affecting this change.)

[playingwiththesquirrels]

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

21st century prayer:

Dear Lord, sorry I'm not sorry for getting nothing done today. 

[zoomerbro]

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

Up against another human being one's own procedures take on definition.

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

[0rdi-deactivated20190106]

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

should I turn my beard into a mustache y/n? 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

whoops my pharmacy closed at 6 instead of 7 on saturday nights time to drink more whiskey. 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

The most ridiculous sentence I'll type this month: Over seven tweets, Joyce Carol Oates (hilariously, bitchily) defends Harvard's grading policies and students. Read about it here, from @theatlantic. 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

The fancies associated with tuberculosis and insanity have many parallels. With both illnesses, there is confinement. Sufferers are sent to a "sanatorium"...Once put away, the patient enters a duplicate world with special rules. Like TB, insanity is a kind of exile. The metaphor of the psychic voyage is an extension of the romantic idea of travel that was associated with tuberculosis. To be cured, the patient has to be taken out of his or her daily routine. It is not an accident that the most common metaphor for an extreme psychological experience viewed positively--whether produced by drugs or becoming psychotic--is a trip.

Susan Sontag, from Illness as Metaphor

[doctorsax]

Hide them all in the dust together; Bind their faces in the world below.

The Book of Job (via doctorsax)

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

Catching Fire

I've been haphazardly and inconsistently writing from these guys for roughly ten months now, which is, incidentally, is the same length of time I found myself in a relationship that, eight days ago, ended. The logic and desire to create new handles was twofold: (1) I wanted a more "coherent" Internet presence unified under the banner of a new, recognizable username (my first name and last name initial); and (2) to distance myself from the type of blogger I'd been in maintaing "cfbwe" for four years: inconstant, disorganized, manically interested and interestingly manic. The big push now--so obvious in retrospect--was to utterly distance any part of myself in contact, immediate or remote, from the self I'd been maintaining this blog: undiagnosed, self-loathing, structurally anxious and unworthy. 

Good news is, things change: I have an Android now, which actually functions as a phone (unlike my old iPhone 4); I'm not afraid of who I've been and who might have known me in that window of time; I've moved from working a bakery to being Operations Manager at a school just a bit too far away for me to conveniently bike (which I do anyway, even if it means hitting the pavement like I did this morning): and I'm no longer interested in coherence, on- or off-line. I wanted to be a writer who could be found easily on the Internet, trenchantly and pithily jerking off about and/or on all the topics he'd covered in articles and poems recently published on- or off-line. Now I'm applying to postbacc programs and want to go to medical school. I haven't been reading like I'd want to recently, but I'm writing this, and goddammit that counts for something.

I labor under no false sense of my importance, but I announce, in my own yawp: I'm going to write from this guy again. Fuck coherence. Friends and followers, nice to be in touch again; everyone else, I look forward to meeting you. I live in New Orleans, my name is Engram, and today I installed a new bathroom door with my roommate. I'm listening to this song right now, which I recommend, and after nearly a year of not writing to you and falling in love with someone I had to leave I'm ready to do the work I'd been doing on this blog all along: bringing it all together, this one big self, learning there is nothing wrong in asking for help. 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

Movin' forward

Making a new blog because trying to organize three years of material from this guy is just too much work and I want to make a more "coherent" internet presence for myself. Dear friends, be on the lookout soon for a follower by another name. It's been real, 'bout to get realer. 

[cfbwe-blog-blog]

New Novel Titles, Pt. 1

Ekphrastic Joe and how The Kiss was stolen. 

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I work to ensure no(-t many) gripes about thesis-writing make their way onto this blog, but I'll be dipped and fried and goddamned if I'm not desperately cobbling up the energy to meet a (-n admittedly self-imposed) deadline of finishing this chapter by 5 today. TWO LEFT, TWO MONTHS, ONE SPEED.  (Aside: if anyone wants to ~*ChAt*~ about late eighteenth-century Portuguese political reforms and the crown's renewed interest in botany HOLLA AT YA BOY.)