Day 26/30: Chillin' like it's already the end (but secretly working really hard)
I forgot to announce that as of yesterday, I've exceeded my Tupelo 30/30 goal to raise $600--because it has been reported that I've raised $1,112.37!!! I am humbled, floored, and honored to have such strong support and love from those around me (both near and far). I couldn't have done this month without you (and yes, there's still a few more days to go).
- - Listened to this TAL episode on the train to work (had to take the train since I was sick this week--too ill for cycling). Couldn't stop thinking about the coincidence of these two doctors--and the various tragedies: murder, illness, despair.
- - Sat with a lot of Jane Mead--from The Useable Field. What a killer book.
- - Funny enough, JB just semi-scolded me after it posted this morning--he said, "You wrote two poems!" then: "What the hell!"--which is basically similar to my coworker's reaction the evening before, when I was struggling with the draft. I didn't want cheat at all in this challenge--and to be fair, the poem is more in two parts than it is two poems, but it is also kind of also just two poems. So I guess I did a 31/30. Or 30.5/30. I'd rather be overachieving than under.
- - The actual myth alluded to in the poem is the one of Diana and Actaeon. Yes, a god with my name (as I am a mortal with a god's name). I was really fascinated (read: obsessed) with the idea of the wandering hounds--lost after having hunted/killed their master, Actaeon, not knowing he had been turned into a deer. Poor pups!
- - Modeled the first stanza after this week's New Yorker poem from Anne Carson. she is incredible.
- - The "masterless hounds" section of the poem stemmed from some menial work: I copied down all the last sentences of EACH chapter from Anna Karenina (there are a lot of chapters), then stripped only a few and restrung them into hound-think. I was feeling particularly uninspired before writing this poem, so I needed a language-task to spur me.
And I might as well talk about the poem I just drafted for today.
"Tippi of Africa"
- - Was browsing pictures on my Tumblr and the from the one of a young Melanie Griffith sleeping with a large lion--I stumbled upon Tippi (born 1990) who was named after Tippi, Griffith's mother! The young Tippi grew up wild in Namidia, and I got really exciting looking at all these pictures and reading about her, which you can do here.
- - The scaffold for this poem is from Sandra Lim's "Amor Fati." I just discovered this amazing poet today and have ordered her book.
And now I'll leave you with Tippi and fog.