Ronald Mason the spoken word artist who came to Washington DC as an educator from New Orleans returns for part two to talk about poetry, spoken word, and making culture. Poet Carl Moore who hails from Philadelphia will briefly join us to share his work as well. Tonight we will each share our works, methods, and stories about what it means to be creative writers in a highly politicized time period while holding true to our visions as artists. Tonight we will discuss soulful visions and being true to the speaking self! http://www.blogtalkradio.com/at-the-edge-thinkculture/2018/12/13/soulful-visions-of-the-speaking-self-ronald-mason
as I turn 52 this month I’ve been thinking about menopause a bit….I skipped this month….my eggs are no longer plentiful…..yet my desire to couple does not cease….Sex really is far beyond procreative meaning…..I will miss the power of blood when I reach the point of becoming Crone…..but this understanding of being a woman who is magical surpasses the womb…..a poem is coming to the surface……
Check out my podcast 6/21 EST Thursday night at 8 and call in! My podcast series Culture Makers begins with Ronald Mason, who will be talking about his writing process, how he creates poetry and spoken word, and how he uses it to inspire and teach young folk to be creative and revolutionary in their own right.
So yes, folk, I do get fan letters. I also get trolls. And then there’s spies who look at my social media for the purpose of running my name up and down hallways because they have nothing better to do, which is ironic, considering the fact that most of them get bigger paychecks than me. In fact one of them sent a nasty note to me via FB msgr whining about me being “sexually frustrated, anal retentive, and racist.” Someone, probably a man who really resents my voice on matters like consent and privilege, wrote this whiny set of accusations. I’m petty enough to use it in the next three poems in a short series called the accusations. Use it, said Blade to Whistler. Use it.
I think my brain treats my poetry writing sessions as an exercise in unpacking boxes from the attic and every once in a while finding a good classic cookbook, or a lovely set of dishes never used. Or a dress worn just once and it still fits. Or even an old, raunchy paperback novel, like The Story of O.
I think I had once of these month long sessions of unpacking some really raunchy novels, and given what I just dreamed last night, I think that analogy fits like a ball gag. Someone asked me about teaching The Story of O by Pauline Reage, a work that should not be taught without matching it with the French Feminisms anthology that tears it to pieces. I pretty much view Reage, du Sade, and other erotic writers of the 18th through the latter 20th century attempting to expel the Church’s repression of sexuality—but not the misogyny that came along with the repression. How is it in the 21st century we are still dealing with repression, misogyny, and fear of female desire?
I did not dream of finding wedding dresses in my closet. I have many more stories and poems to unpack and put on a table to shine or toss. Some of them sound like fragments from a raunchy novel. It’s my way of getting my brain out of writers block as I finish my other writing gig for a deadline later this month. I wouldn’t say it’s better than sex, but given the level of frustration that summer brings me (it’s warm, so I exercise and that definitely gets me aroused), writing about these things helps chase away writers block and depression over my summer blues over my lack of companionship. Love and lust really do matter for us writers—at least for me it does. And vibrators don’t inspire 5000 word chapters. Or epic poems.
So, if you happen to know me, you may be wondering if I’m talking about you, or someone close to me or you. The answer is no. Yes. Maybe. Maybe not. Who gives a fuck? I’m writing about human experience and what we endure while living on this planet. I do include my twisted imagination and twisted reality and twisted feelings. I’m pretty strange in my flesh n blood world, so if my writing makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, welcome to my world. I might write about you one day. Let the world beware, said Catherine Tramell.
The Month is almost up. Not sure I feel like doing this in June. Holla at me and tell me.
Oh, and I’ve been holding back a bit. Look for me to just get straight up weird these last days.