I bought myself some star-gazer lilies. This morning I pruned the rust-colored stamen away and my fingers are stained by the dusty male organs of the flower.
Yesterday my new issue of ZYZZYVA arrived. It is full of incredible writing and art, as usual. I wonder what the editorial process is like. How does an editor take submissions and prune them down to the essential? Does the editor choose pieces that speak to each other? I wonder. I imagine all of my writings out in the world in the hands of first-round readers, being judged and tossed aside. How subjective is judging work to the reader's mood, life, lifestyle, education, culture or lack thereof? I like submitting to ZYZZYVA because their response time is fast. I've had journals not get back to me for eleven months. I have work out now that feels like it has been swallowed by the black hole of the literary journal universe. And that work is tied up because I often submit to places that allow no simultaneous submissions.
I did the thing yesterday where I went out and bought new a new journal, for new times. I bought new pens, too. All these somewhat stupid rituals I adhere myself to when it comes to writing and living my life. Rituals of one's own creation are just as important as ones handed down by culture, I suppose. I make sure the cup on my altar is filled. I write every morning. I spend enough time in silence to know my head. Maybe there is a strand of obsessiveness in me. Who the fark knows.
Love Will Tear Us Apart