The announcer spoke: "You may have been to some of these copy cat poetry houses, but this is the real McCoy. The Nuyorican is to poetry, what Yankee Stadium is to Baseball, What Madison Square Garden is to Boxing. This is where it all happens"
Here I was again about to slam at one of the most life defining places one can ever read their poetry. The last time I had read here, I did not get the warmest of receptions. This time was different. The pool of poetic talent ran deep and rich. I saw what will arguably be called in my old age some of the best minds of my generation read. I placed second in round one and came in third in the finals. There just may be some hope for the NY slam team in my future after all.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Friday, February 20, 2004
Object Relations
Greetings Blogonauts!
I have officially moved. My internet is working and I have cable again. Awesome! On a side note- if your cable company offers a DVR box for as nominal of a fee as ours and you haven't ordered it yet you are crazy. I am no longer at the mercy of the schedule. I will watch American Idol when I damn well please.
So moving was AWFUL!!!!! I don't think there is a more humiliating, grueling, torturous experience available to the modern homo-sapien. I hemoraged money I don't have. I fell down a set of stairs. I poured over the contents of my life, and I'm still trying to sort stuff out here on the other end. I have had a brief haulting illness, but thanks to the miracles of cultured molds- I am well and kickin'.
Moving got me to thinking about Object Relations. The part of psychology that says we develope the way we do because of our experience of and therefore relationship to objects. I suppose that moving is like analyzing each echoe of these experiences. There is something oddly cleansing that happened for me. My old house held a lot of history for me. Including the last bits of my addiction- which were the darkest. I tried like hell to use this jarring rite of passage as a sort of skin-shed. I made an effort to analyze the objects I had in terms of purpose and sentiment. It turns out that there were literally hundreds of effects that had at one time or another seemed personally meaningful that really were just junk. As I packed endless boxes and filled bags of trash I took a journey that started with my move from Denver.
My time in New York has been such a wild ride. I have learned a lot about who I am, and have made a great deal of improvement on who that is. So I paired down the keepsakes of a fading childhood, of mis-fired love missiles, the mementos of days which left marks and rotting roots that still reach west. I picked through the touchstones of people I have lost and of people I still hold close. I stopped through moments of my life frozen in the photographic image. I came face to face with the voration of my own consumerism. I took an inventory of the objects that have turned my development to the course it is on, and I put it all in boxes.
I am officially a resident of NYC. The subway is right there. The objects I kept and moved are mine, they are me, and now I am set to the process of erecting my new life here. What an awesome step. I was terrified of making this move because I was so comfortable in my old environment. Now I am smittened with the new neighborhood, and the seemingly limitless possibilities that lie at my public transportable feet. The dogs are mesmerized with being city dogs, and all habits seem healthier on their parts. I don't think they have any idea why we take part of our morning walk in the car, I just can't explain alternate side parking to them somehow.
I am feeling hopeful, and unburdened. Comfort is a tricky little thing. A friend of mine works in therapy and believes that as soon as she gets comfortable in a job she has served that situation all that she can. I suppose Long Beach served me all that it could. I think that 2004 will be the start of great things.
I have officially moved. My internet is working and I have cable again. Awesome! On a side note- if your cable company offers a DVR box for as nominal of a fee as ours and you haven't ordered it yet you are crazy. I am no longer at the mercy of the schedule. I will watch American Idol when I damn well please.
So moving was AWFUL!!!!! I don't think there is a more humiliating, grueling, torturous experience available to the modern homo-sapien. I hemoraged money I don't have. I fell down a set of stairs. I poured over the contents of my life, and I'm still trying to sort stuff out here on the other end. I have had a brief haulting illness, but thanks to the miracles of cultured molds- I am well and kickin'.
Moving got me to thinking about Object Relations. The part of psychology that says we develope the way we do because of our experience of and therefore relationship to objects. I suppose that moving is like analyzing each echoe of these experiences. There is something oddly cleansing that happened for me. My old house held a lot of history for me. Including the last bits of my addiction- which were the darkest. I tried like hell to use this jarring rite of passage as a sort of skin-shed. I made an effort to analyze the objects I had in terms of purpose and sentiment. It turns out that there were literally hundreds of effects that had at one time or another seemed personally meaningful that really were just junk. As I packed endless boxes and filled bags of trash I took a journey that started with my move from Denver.
My time in New York has been such a wild ride. I have learned a lot about who I am, and have made a great deal of improvement on who that is. So I paired down the keepsakes of a fading childhood, of mis-fired love missiles, the mementos of days which left marks and rotting roots that still reach west. I picked through the touchstones of people I have lost and of people I still hold close. I stopped through moments of my life frozen in the photographic image. I came face to face with the voration of my own consumerism. I took an inventory of the objects that have turned my development to the course it is on, and I put it all in boxes.
I am officially a resident of NYC. The subway is right there. The objects I kept and moved are mine, they are me, and now I am set to the process of erecting my new life here. What an awesome step. I was terrified of making this move because I was so comfortable in my old environment. Now I am smittened with the new neighborhood, and the seemingly limitless possibilities that lie at my public transportable feet. The dogs are mesmerized with being city dogs, and all habits seem healthier on their parts. I don't think they have any idea why we take part of our morning walk in the car, I just can't explain alternate side parking to them somehow.
I am feeling hopeful, and unburdened. Comfort is a tricky little thing. A friend of mine works in therapy and believes that as soon as she gets comfortable in a job she has served that situation all that she can. I suppose Long Beach served me all that it could. I think that 2004 will be the start of great things.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Craaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzy
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