I refuse to admit to my irrelevance.

Let me preface this rant with a short excerpt of “Things Procrast Already Knows”.

1. I am not a great photographer. I will never be known as a photographer. You will not hear my name along side Ansel Adams, Imogene Cunningham, Nan Goldin or the like. Photography, for me, is a joyous tidbit; a fulfillment to capture and manipulate a visual image. And in embracing my love of photography, I have also embraced my lack of painting talent. To hell with you paint, I shall photograph! So there it is.

2. I am not a great poet. I am, however, slowly becoming so and do not doubt my name could be known along side the greats. If only I could get some real publications under my belt. If only I could get some recognition by my true peers. If only….if only…if only….Sorry for the dramatic trail off but you know there are so many “if onlys” that I feel it would serve only to push the dagger further into my gut to list them. So there that is.

3. There are other people in the world who are now and will always be
a. Better at poetry/photography/everything than I.
b. More successful within the field of poetry/photography/everything than I.
c. More successful yet possessing less talent than I and on…and on…and on…

That all ‘round and about being said, I come here to this tableau of bitchery to vent my furious frustrations aloud to my one reader. OH READER! WHY HAST MY WORDS FALLEN ON MANY A DEF EAR? Rather, onto no ears at all? Well, I will tell you why. It is so because everyone who reads a book now and again feels they can write poetry. See? I have a good vocabulary, I can write poetry. SEE? I can rhyme too! I’m gonna muck up the postal service with my endless submissions to myriad lit mags with my deep, gothesque, emo, buffoonery.

Now, what angers me most, well most as of this moment, is not that the general half literate populous feels they can write poetry. No. Words are for everyone as poetry should be for the masses. I want everyone to write poetry. If anything, I think writing poetry, journaling, drawing, singing, art of all kinds, releases a bit of that pent up aggression/sadness/fear within us all. Art allows a bit of the cancerous bile we keep pocketed up in our squishy inner thoughts out and away from our person. It is good for everyone to write poetry. What is not good, however, what is the utter epoch of anti bueno, is the fact that these idiot editors at these hack lit mags keep PUBLISHING THE EMO BUFFOONERY! And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but this little gem on McSweeny’s Internet Tendencies: Sestinas (from which “Night Police” was rejected)

THE LIFTINGS AND THE FALLINGS
-by some dude
Grandmother, how I long once more in the gloaming
to hear your voice. Voicelessly, it speaks
in whispered sighs, the wind: statelessness.
With each daguerreotype I touch, a shroud
of darkness falls. I recall the breast pump
you gave me, how we gazed at the wainscoting

together, listening, how the wainscoting
echoed, a halcyon of sound, how the gloaming
enveloped the liftings and the fallings of the breast pump,
its capacious stillness immeasurable now. It speaks
to me in a voice I cannot hear, through a shroud
of silhouettes, bracken, statelessness.

Revenant, appear! Your statelessness
malingers in the chiffonier, the wainscoting's
absence, in the veil of dreams, the shroud
of sleep, the sidewalk of meaning, in the gloaming
of hunger, the chifforobe of chance ... One speaks
of incandescence, of what is needed, of breast pumps,

of fields which are no longer. Your breast pump
murmuring cantilevered statelessness
quells each ceaseless passerby, speaks
the language of grief, recombinant—such wainscoting
was not easy, such corridors— in the gloaming
of our hearts, as once they were, this shroud

forever flowering. Osterlind, our shroud,
undreams the unknowable. Breast pumps,
two fluttering ghosts, dreamless, undo the gloaming
in the leaves of dawn. Such statelessness
was not easy. With tenderness, the wainscoting
sings a song that you used to sing, speaks

with your voice, Grandmother. Persephone speaks
through you, in a tremolo: loud shroud.
Wrong song, for now, my heart demures ... The wainscoting
fades. The day is ended. Lost are the breast pumps
of sunlight. All is gone. All is statelessness, ruin. I sit alone, in the after-gloaming ...

And yet, in this post-gloaming, something speaks
to me of statelessness, then lifts the shroud
from my eyes: your breast pumps hang from the wainscoting.

Really?
Could you be anymore glib? Could you have used www.thesaurus.com more obviously? Could you have been listening to Radiohead on repeat more loudly?

So there. I just had to share with all of you the joyless boobery that was published in lieu of my work. And for those of you unfamiliar with my tired o’ft drug out piece “Night Police”, well then, here is a link to it. It is the last poem in this collection:
http://kathleen.marshall.googlepages.com/asinglemigration

Urg.

Pout.

I know I have to but why? Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why?

Ok, back to work.

Common Work Faux Pas as presented in letter form.

Dear Madam,

As you have worked in the professional world for some time, you should already be aware of certain norms and customs of the professional world. However, I have had myriad complaints regarding your performance. I feel the time to address concerns is past due. I apologize if any oversight or lax communique has lead to this unfortunate and uncomfortable situation. Please allow me to remedy this error and explain correct behavior in an efficient, numbered list.

1. It is unclear at this time if you have attended/finished any secondary information. Until we at the company follow up on this point, please remember the following grammatical tips for every day use.

• Verb Tense-- Present perfect tense: I have seen. Simple past tense: I saw. There is no tense which would allow for the use of "I seen" under any circumstances. Please discontinue use immediately.


• Double Negatives-- Sadly for both lovers of Shakespeare as well as famed psychedelic rockers Pink Floyd, double negatives are not used in modern professional language. For example, "we don't need no education" though thoroughly acceptable as a song lyric, is not appropriate under business and professional standards. Please discontinue use of phrases such as, "I don't got no..." and/or "I don't need nothing". From this point on, please use the tense agreement in conjunction with the single negative phrasing such as, "I do not have any..." and/or "I do not need anything."


• Contraction vs. Preposition-- Would of and would've are not interchangeable. In fact, there is no correct time to use the phrase "would of" to construe present perfect simple tense. Please desist.

2. Bathroom etiquette is something of a coarse subject but is, evidently, a subject we must breach. Please leave the bathroom in the appropriately clean condition in which you found it. Paper towels need not litter the floor, nor water be left splashed about the sink and vanity area. Additionally, a lidded trash receptacle, power exhaust fan, and air freshener are always available for use. We encourage the latter most fervently.

3. One is free in a casual corporate environment such as this to use parochial language within a private conversation among friends. It is not recommended to use such phrases as, "The only pussy I like is my own." openly within a professional setting. It is easy to forget oneself and blurt out inappropriate thoughts. It is much easier, however, for a listener of said thought to take offense and subsequently file suit. Sexual harassment comes in many forms. At present, we do not carry enough insurance to cover further complaints.

At this time, I shall refrain from listing any further grievances. I do not want to bog down your psyche and/or already lackadaisical work performance. Please read, study, and review this list. I will discuss your thoughts on this subject during out next meeting. Until then, know these concerns have been aired only out of duty and the inability to fire you. Please also remember that due to your length of employment, regardless of your odoriferous malcontent-ed idiocy, still make more money than I.

Sincerely and with a full lack of respect,

The Woefully Underemployed

BitchingAloud-- Manifesto?

Oh to bitch. Oh to complain. Oh the joy of it all.

One of my favorite things to do when I'm upset/angry/irritated/bored/(insert your favorite descriptive predicate here) is bitch. I adore letting out the little annoyances that fill my day, piling up like so much dirty laundry. I feel stymied without the sweet release of a detailed description on how i was wronged, my desires ignored, my very person slighted. I want to share my bitter utterances with those around me. It is cathartic in so many ways.

The only problem with the need and passion for complaint is with the listener. Sometimes you want to complain about a friend and their dumbass boyfriend to another friend. But what if that other likes the dumbass boyfriend? What if your listener values your friend and their position (ie relationship with said dumbass) above your own? Is your desire to ventilate your bubbling steam worth creating tension? I say nay. One must have an outlet for these feelings and concerns.

Stop hiding! Away with feeling there is no public outlet for your fury and utter frustration regarding friend/family/coworker/reality television joe. You too can bitch! Rise up against the politically correct, the white lies of civility. Bitch Aloud to All Who Stumble Upon Your Words.

Share the joy.

Join me, my brethren, join me in my quest to bitch.