Have flu

Challenge poems will resume when I stop feeling like someone is inflating a zeppelin inside my head.

New Challenge

Rob has set a challenge after the latest Guardian Workshop, details here. I've decided to give a shot, I have been struggling recently to get back into right mindframe so this seems like a good way to kick start my writing, even if I don't end up using any of the resulting drafts.

Day 1:

Imagine a forest, and you inside,
sitting shiva in a little clay treehouse
with all the mirrors waxed blind.

In the absence of light, the dead earth
crumbling through your fingers
like powdered air, you pot moths,

their husks cracked as shoots push
naked through the dirt: a flowering
corpse; a mindless, skeletal hush.

Imagine being lost in the woods,
spiders placed on your eyelids
spinning cobwebs for your shroud.

---
Eloise

Poetry Styles

I've been thinking a lot about the sort of poetry that I want to write (more so, unfortunately, than writing the blessed stuff), and I've realised that perhaps part of the problem is that I don't really know. I veer between wishing I could write like this or this. One being fantastic, surreal, edge of comprehension verse and the other perfectly paced startingly original but recognisably real narrative stuff. (These are just the last two examples that I read before I posted this so please don't read too much into them). I'm pretty sure that I can't achieve both, and I don't want to mimic either but I just wish that I knew what I was doing with something. It all feels too unreliable, this waiting for a phrase or an idea or a tune and trying to work with it. Every poet that I read seems to have some idea of what the hell they're doing, capable of consistency (not repetition, or voice, but that idea that seems to be being bandied around a lot recently of a collection). Maybe it was reading this essay that set me off, but have this awful feeling that I'm not really either and going nowhere and saying nothing at all. When all I really want is for my writing to be convincing (and startling and original and vivid and memorable etc.) bur really, having what I've written, whatever it is, be trusted would be enough for me. I trust all the writers I love, and I refuse to think of a better word for it.

Yes this is a link-heavy strop post and yes I am half-way through a draft that is kicking my arse and yes this is the first time I've been thinking seriously about writing in months, especially now I'm actually reading real books again (Victorian Literature is not my friend, why does the one period which I have always struggled with have to be the cornerstone of my first term's tuition? O yea Gods, why?)

Eloise

I'm almost ashamed

To be blogging again after such an extended absence, but lets just say that I needed to drop off the face of the earth for a while, and now I want to come back, or I have to. I am not yet back in England, I have another month in America yet but somehow I feel like the big adventure is over. Maybe it's because I've been working for a month (the teaching kiddies thing, which is proving exhausting and not quite as rewarding as I was hoping) or maybe it's because I'm suddenly getting homesick, but I feel like I want my life back, even though I'm not sure that it's really my life anymore. I'm not quite ready yet to write down all the stuff that I've done over the last however many months, it may be weird but there is something comforting about having it all to myself. It's something I did and no one else can verify or take credit for it. But nevertheless, I'm different, I maybe couldn't express why or how but I know that I am, you spend enough time with only yourself for moral compass and you give up worrying about how things were, or how they should be, and just do what works for you. I don't think I'd ever realised how much sway my friends had over me before now. I do have some good stories, which I may or may not share at some point but mostly I've just fallen in love a lot, with all sorts of different things/places/people and had the opportunity to listen. I don't think I'd ever really listened before, I was always waiting for a flaw in the argument, but I've realised that I know what I think but the real opportunity is to find out what everyone else believes.

Maybe this all sounds like pretentious bullshit, and I'm OK with that, but I'm glad that I have done it and now I'm kind of ready to get the last month over with and go home and then to university. Although I'm currently terrified about not getting through my reading list. I've sunk right back into my old habits of using poetry and it's related internet pursuits as a way of avoiding work, compounded by having spend a year out of any form of educational establishment, and almost as long away from reading for work rather than pleasure. Wish me luck. I hope I manage to get my blogging back up to speed, if not in the next month at least when I get home, I used to love having the opportunity to hear the opinions of people outside my immediate circle of friends, and I think I'm going to need that even more when I go back to my same-old same-old.

Eloise
all wrapped (rapt!) up in herself

April 2nd & 3rd

Both of these were written during my 24 hour journey from Rio to San Francisco, and therefore are rubbish. They also manage to neatly rip off two of my other poems. I refuse to feel guilty for this.

April 2nd:

Faith

Faith is the love that waits with bated breath
that knows how long it takes for hope and death
to finally intertwine.

April 3rd:

Jet Lag

I'm trying to remember which hand wins
when you're playing for souls. The dumb moon spins

and just won't stop. A breath away from falling,
too blindly lost in life to see it's stalling

what must, by rights, be certain. Our whole lives
are spent suspended, like a tower of knives

we balance on nothing at all, pushing our luck
because we have no choice: forever stuck

on this dirty rock. So I dream of flight,
of watching the sun rise through the fur-lined night;

losing myself to a lifetime's worth of goodbyes
and a future filled with empty skies.

How huge tomorrow seems, how bright, how clean.
There's a world out there that no one's ever seen

but me; as real as the clouds are, lost in a kiss
and just the sort of world you blink and miss

and miss forever. I've never needed more
than my two eyes, two feet, an open door

but the further I stray from home, the more I find
that the people you love are never far behind.

---
Eloise

NaPo--April 1st

Fitz Roy (or untitled)

Forever is just another afternoon:
the two of us sitting close-knit and careless;
the sunlight gorgeous on my face. Will it be
warm tonight, still and starfilled? I want to feel
a breeze like a thousand kisses but it is
getting cold, the night hangs darker with
every passing day. I know it's over:
autumn brings more clouds and moulding leaves
than love can stand. So darling hold me close
and tell me all the old lies, more half-truths
and promises. You'll build us a future
made of sand, ignore the waiting tide.
Although we know tomorrow is always
how the end approaches we still cling together;
we try and try but we will never know.

We try and try but we will never know
how the end approaches. We still cling together
although we know tomorrow is always
made of sand; ignore the waiting tide
and its promises. You'll build us a future
and tell me all the old lies, more half truths
than love can stand, so darling hold me close.
Autumn brings more clouds and moulding leaves
with every passing day. I know it's over,
getting cold, the night hangs darker with
a breeze like a thousand kisses but it is
warm tonight, still and starfilled. I want to feel
the sunlight gorgeous on my face. Will it be
the two of us, sitting close-knit and careless,
forever or just another afternoon?

--
Eloise

Rio and the coming of NaPo

I finally made it to Rio, thank god, although I lost almost a week of a ten day trip, which is deeply annoying. However I think I am going to manage to at least get most of the touristy stuff done before I leave: we did the Sugarloaf and the Christ today (as you can see) and we are doing a favela tour tomorrow, which apparently is great. Rio is hot, and unfamiliar, and pretty scary; I'm glad that I'm here, and that I've seen a bit of it, but I'm not sure I'll come back. We were sitting on the beach yesterday watching a bunch of kids nicking wallets and then going through them together, and this was right in front of us, it's was awful. At least in BA I felt safe pretty much always, or at least no more in danger than I do in London. Otherwise it's lovely here, the beach is gorgeous and the hostel we are in is lovely (and brand new, which is always a bonus). I seem to spend most of my time sleeping in the hammock. We tried some of the local cuisine yesterday: I would be happy to eat pig's trotters if someone would tell me which bit was the edible part. Otherwise it's basically just rice and beans...which is ok. I'd love to show you all my photos so I might try and work out a way of putting them somewhere so you can see them, they are all on facebook but unless you are my friend you won't be able to see them.

In other news, yes I have signed up for NaPo this year. Expect a lot of travelogue type stuff, and hopefully the odd piccy. I just improved so much last year, and really loved the community, so it would be a waste not to give it another bash. I'm not sure how easy it will be to keep up with when I'm travelling, but I'm going to do my best. I also think it will be an amazing way to have a record of at least the first month of my travels, and hopefully I'll then get in the habit of maintaining it, to a lesser extent, for the next however long. I do want to use this time to write, but I didn't really realise how hard it is to find enough alone time to really focus. As always, I need a deadline.

Wish me luck!

Eloise

immigration

Sorry, have been a terrible blogeuse. Life is always getting in the way and I had sort of forgotten that it had been this long. Doesn´t really feel it, although I have now been in BA for over 3 weeks. Sadly, I was actually supposed to be in Rio right now but due to reasons outside my control, ie. a visa no one told me I needed, I am currently stuck (luckily con bed) in BA while my friends are chilling on Ipanema beach. This is deeply annoying, and rather stressful as I have a ridiculously pricey flight to make in Rio.

The american government, not one I like all that much anyway, is a real fucker as it puts so many restrictions on immigration that it makes countries like Brazil hate it, and therefore make life tricky for any yank (or technical yank) coming into the country. That sort of bureacratic bastardry does not go down well when you´ve had an hour´s sleep and having been trekking around embassies all day. As there is no way that they will get me a visa till Friday (god knows why it takes so long) I´m now waiting for my British passport so I can at least spend a few days with my friends.

It´s funny, I´m pretty damn independent and I was doing really well in the airport and with the first leg of trying to get a visa but there is a moment, pretty much when you have burst into tears in an embassy, that you just want someone´s advice, and someone to help you out. Hearing my parents voices, and turning up in my hostel and getting a big hug was all it took to keep me from losing it completely, and if I hadn´t had that I don´t know what I would have done.

God I´m getting soft in my old age.

Eloise

PS The picture is of a coffin in Recoleta cemetery, which a beautiful and eerie place to spend an afternoon. That picture is the last death throes of my goth side.

in Buenos Aires

Hello all, yes I am still alive and well and having a fabulous time in BA. I´m sorry that I haven´t blogged sooner but as always life gets in the way of quality internet time. I say life, though what I really mean is a lot of time spent sitting on our patio smoking and talking utter bollocks. Oh yes, and drinking, and eating some of the best steak that I have ever encountered. Seriously, I wanted its babies. It was that good. BA is ridiculously cheap, at 6 pesos to the pound it costs me $3.50 (pesos) for a pack of fags, and a really good meal is max about $35 a head. I am living like a king for monopoly money.

The hostel we are staying in is in a neighbourhood called Palermo which is very pretty and full of cool bars and restaurants and parks. Not that I´ve actually seen a whole lot of the town, we keep intending to go and be touristy and then after a couple of empanadas (Argentine pasties) and a ciggy, chilling seems much more tempting. Or it´s pissing with rain (apparently we just missed a massive flash flood, where the water was thigh deep everywhere) and we can just about make it to the bakery on the corner to refuel.

Nonetheless, I am having a great time and am very lucky that the other people in the hostel are good fun. I was especially pleased when we played poker and I won everything (well, I cleaned up in pasta) despite being the worst poker player ever. Will try and upload some piccies soon (ie when I work out how to do it) and show you guys a bit of the city. It´s also my birthday on Sunday, so we are going to a cemetary, not quite sure why. I just want to play hide and seek cause apparently it´s the perfect place for it. Is that sacreligious?

Anyway, I hope everyone is having fun in the relative homelands, and if you ever get tired of real life I wholeheartedly recommend BA as a place to escape.

Eloise

Goodbye and Good Riddance

Tomorrow at about 6pm I am going to walk out of my front door and I'm not going to return for almost 6 months. This is making my head hurt a bit. I am really excited about travelling but that doesn't stop it being scary and rather upsetting. Saying goodbye, not just to the people I love, but also my normal life, is tough. I keep finding myself bursting into tears in bus stops as another friend disappears. Packing is also incredibly tedious and hard seeing as I have to try and predict the next 6 months of my life. My bag isn't very big either.

I will be posting entries and photos and stuff on this blog when I can, and there will also be some round-robin emails and if anyone wants to receive those, just email me and I'll put you on the list. I have to do both because very few of my real-life friends know about the blog, and I like it that way.

It's lucky that England is so depressing at the moment, it makes the 12 hour flight to the sunshine seem very worth it.

God, this is my last night in my own bed for a very long time. I'm going to miss that, and home cooked meals, and sitting in my local talking shit with my friends, and Tottenham Court Road, and my poetry class and all sorts of stupid things. But then I realise that I'm running away for half a year and doing all the things that I was too busy, or skint, or lazy to do, and that I'll have no responsibilities apart from self-preservation, and I don't mind all those goodbyes so much.

Eloise