Tuesday, November 10, 2015

What, no NaNoWriMo for Poets?


Expecting to see a poetic equivalent to NaNoWriMo, I waited for those writing prompts to magically appear on Facebook. Not even a peep from Molly Fisk (unless she took it offline, and I missed the announcement).

What, there's no NaNoWriMo for poets this year? After what Canada's new Le Dreamy PM said today, that the world needs more poets?

“…we need poets to change the world.” -Justin Trudeau, PM

So I decided to go to NaWriPoMo 2015 and work my way backwards down the prompts. The last (my first prompt is/was to write a poem backwards.
Start with the last line and work your way up the page to the beginning. Another way to go about this might be to take a poem you’ve already written, and flip the order of the lines and from there, edit it so the poem now works with its new order.
What tickles me about this assignment is that I've been combing old journals and posting old work to fluff out my blog timeline all month long, so this is write up my alley! (*Stet.).

It's so hard not to tear into that old work, and rewrite it. I'm thinking archivilly. Well, strangely, this gives me permission. I may not even get past this first/last prompt. (OK, so I do tweak them a bit, but I put a rev. note at the bottom, OK?).

I've been using Scannable with my iPod (eyepod?) to take a snapscan of old journal entries as the ink's migrated—especially where I used black le Pens, black ink with breakaway yellow auras, almost unreadable. Some of the lavender and green pens were fugitive colors. Dark cobalt blue ink stained right on through to the other side. Usually on the pages where i did little marginalia drawings that I'd love to have a clean copy of. Another task for Photoshop. Later.

Scannable, though quirky as all get-up, does a decent job of eliminating most of the notorious ink bleeds so I can at least read the text. But the cleanup job in Photos is mighty tedious. Then, I discovered I could send them to iBook and make a PDF. Soon I will have an online collection of my old journals from 1979 to 2000 on my iPad. To say the least, I am suffering from eyestrain, so every little bit helps.

I've got a photo system rigged up with a music stand for the iPad, a podium for my journals, and wedges of black cardboard to mask unwanted sides and portions—as the app goes wild and takes photos of plaid pillows, my hands, etc., and a light array, dampened with paper shields to cut the glare. Very ad hoc. But it works. Until it doesn't work. Then my pages look skewed and drunk.

This also means that I can rescue the journal that took a dive into the Szecheny Baths in Budapest, rendering my Austria and Hungary travel writing into a series of Rorschach inkblots. (LOL, I wrote Rorschit, my Freudian slip's showing).

Now if only I could figure out how to get those huge PDFs of my journals off the iPad, as they're ghosts in the machine, only visible in iBooks. No way to access them. And I prefer the big screen and my old Mac for reading and writing. 

Also, if I can read my texts on the big screen, blowing it up huge, so I can see it, then I can use my Dragon Dictate iPad app to turn that hen-scratching into an editable format. 

Alas, Dragon Dictate is very hard of hearing, and somewhat senile, or it daydreams of being in Herorot, so it's no marriage made in heaven. It capitalizes all common nouns, and can't understand simple words like hair, ear, sea, etc., though it records all my Oh fer fucksakes, just fine.

It's like a bad case of tin can dictaphoniitis. Alas, they're not very interesting aural mistakes, either. Most of the time I'm left puzzling over what on earth I was saying. So I make something up. Or eliminate it altogether. Needless to say, I've a lot of gibberish posts stuck in draft mode. The Blogger's version of the Twilight Zone.

Changing the world, one poem at a time, I am.

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