ocho cinco

i was going to write a rant about my coworker but i'm having concerns about anonymity so i'll just go with the generic "i hate idiots" and let that suffice. i hate idiots. there.

now, let's talk about yesterday's post. for those of you who imagine that poem is anything but a work of fiction, don't be an idiot. it's just something that sprouted out of my noggin. and, that's what i'd like to talk to you about today. how the hell does that sproutation happen? well, wait. i know technically "how" i guess. i mean, i can tell you what occurs. but i don't know the mechanism behind the occurrance.

occasionally, a line or two will just appear in my head. in this case, it was just the first line (meant to say --i love you-- but it came out --go away--). i heard it in my head and i was intrigued. how can you mean to say one thing, and it comes out another? did you mean to lie, and the truth came out, or vicie-versie, meant to be genuine, but instead you deceived? there's also a really intriguing element of being caught by surprise by one's own words.

when i get a line or two like that, i will roll it around my brain and see if anything else sticks to it. i do that by saying it to myself over and over again. it's like having a song lyric stuck in your head except it's my own song. (meant to say --i love you-- but it came out --go away--)(meant to say --i love you-- but it came out --go away--)(meant to say --i love you-- but it came out --go away--)

after a while stuff will start to stick like snow on a snowball rolling downhill. sometimes it gets bigger in a hurry and i can hardly keep it in my head and i get sort of desperate to write it down. i'll write it down on anything - napkin, receipt, notebook, volume of harry potter. i'll call myself and leave a message. anything to get it out because it will absolutely not let go until i get it out. sometimes it doesn't grow that fast, and i can keep it in my head a while. sometimes it happens at night when i am falling asleep and i always, invariably, think i am going to remember it and i always, invariably do not. idiot.

so, let's see. this one, the next line (meant to say --i need you-- but instead said --please, don't stay--) was not too fast. also, it's not too good. who says, "please, don't stay". blech. unrealistic. forced rhymes are unpleasant. the first part (meant to say --i need you-- but instead said) is good. good rhythm, matches the construction of the first line and uses different connector words (but it came out vs but instead said). everything's good except the end is forced, but at this point, lines 3 and 4 are coming at me so i can't think about 2 too much.

the next two lines have a good internal rhythm. the words are natural language, not contrived, yet they are rhythmic and rhyming. (meant to say that you're the one i cannot do without. / you hung the sun and moon and stars. you're water to my drought.) also, there's something about the one long sentence followed by the two shorter sentences that builds the momentum of the poem. it's like a wave coming at you, then it crashes and breaks with the last line (instead spent all night yelling, throwing things about.). the last line is shorter than the others. the first four lines have 7 beats each. not syllables - beats.

iMEANT toSAY iLOVE youBUT itCAME outGO aWAY

the unstressed-stressed meter is iambic and the sections are generically called feet but in this case are iambs. there are seven feet to a line, so it's iambic heptameter. the first four lines are iambic heptameter. the last line (instead spent all night yelling, throwing things about.) is iambic hexameter. it's one foot shorter than the first four lines. the shortness provides a feeling of being dropped or let down. if you can imagine a conversation where it's building, Building, BUILDING, then drops off. the speaker is defeated and humiliated by his inability to control his temper. he doesn't want to talk about it, so he cuts himself off and switches directions.

but here's where i can run into trouble. i've got this first verse, and it's pretty great, but what happens next? another of the same? or, do we find out more about the speaker. turns out we find out more about the speaker. sometimes additional verses come easy. in this case, it didn't, and i am not happy with it so i am still working on it. it's hard to make the rhythm match a precident that was set by a magical flow of words. the first verse just came out of me, the second, not so much.

i had this: (why can i not say the things you want to hear?) but i just now rewrote it to: (why is it i cannot say the things you want to hear?) which hits the seven iambs a bit more tightly but is no less conversationally awkward. here, i imagine the speaker repeating back the words of the person he's talking to. like, "you want to know why i can't tell you i love you? well, i will tell you why." so, he's not questioning himself, he's parroting the other person. (am i being stubborn? is there something that i fear?) is also a repetition of what the unheard other party is saying. the speaker is mimicking, not nicely.

then he comes out with the answer: (i'm not afraid - i'm weary saying words i don't believe in.). that line came out pretty well. i liked ending on the unstressed syllable "in" which makes it become part of the last foot and in essense part of the word "believe". the next line is the crux of the matter. (hard to be the giving one with you always receiving.) reveals exactly why it's hard to say the words the non-speaker wants to hear - the effort is not reciprocated.

the speaker concludes with a threat, saying (ask me why again, you will find me leaving.). this line is forced and awkward. the momentum in the second verse didn't build the same way as it did in the first, but i still wanted to end on a short line, a hexameter line. the heptameter line would be "if you ask me why again, you will find me leaving" which is a much better line, but i wanted a hex, not a hept, so i lopped off the first foot. not yet convinced it works, and as it is the end of the poem, it needs to carry more than its own weight - it's got to carry the poem. it's not only that it's awkward, but the feet are crowded. "throwing things about" is very economical and that economy contributes to the falling-off feeling. "you will find me leaving" is not only round-about, it's wordy.

so, there you have it. i may never come back and rewrite the last line, but that doesn't mean it's finished.