This week has been the week of debilitating panic attacks. They started yesterday. I don't understand them. I only get them when there's nothing to panic about. If I got them while being yelled at, or trapped in a box, or threatened by marauding elephants, well, you know, okay. But I get them when I'm just sitting around.
I heard a comedian once describe panic attacks this way: "It's like an orgasm, but instead of coming, you die!" That's perfect.
I've decided to drive them away with chocolate. Hell, it works for Harry Potter.
On the good side, I have some poems burbling away in my head again, and some good ideas for managing poetical things. I think I'm going to try to send out two submissions a week. Trying to send out a lump of them at the beginning of each month is just too hectic. I think I can reasonably print out and proofread two submissions a week, and then waft them off in business envelopes toward their new homes. I also think I'm going to try to write one or two sections of "Mandamus" a week (it's going to have 95 sections total) rather than trying to sit down and write it all at once. I was supposed to do that last week, and nope. I just played video games.
I'm also seriously thinking about a ghost poem chapbook, mostly because I have a great idea for a cover. It cracks me up. It involves dressing Mark up in a sheet, though. He may not go for that. But anyway, I want to dress Mark and maybe some other people up in classic two-eyeholes in a sheet ghost-fashion, and then photograph them hanging out in the UVA Cemetery (which is a pretty creepy place, actually) doing non-ghostie things. Like talking on cellphones. Or playing soccer. Or doing semaphore code. Square-dancing. Whatever. Oh, it maketh me to laugh.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
