The more I unplug, the better I feel about myself. The better I feel about myself, the more I create.
I got off Facebook about a month or so ago. It's been great. I did so because, though I never spent a lot of time in one sitting, I checked often--too often--during the day. It was a distraction and rarely worth my time. I also unsubscribed from several list serves, including Cave Canem, which has been the single most important influence in the development of my writing. Too distracting.
Now I'm imagining more, brainstorming more. I'm submitting more poetry. I've begun collaborations, setting some of Jane Hirshfield's translated haiku and finally started reworking a stage musical adaptation of the poetry collection Ota Benga Under My Mother's Roof by Carrie Allen McCray.
"Unearthing House: The Final Songs of Gay Spree Murderer Andrew Cunanan," a poem cycle I wrote in response to a Warhol-like portrait of Cunanan done by my friend Joseph Whitt, was accepted for publication. I wrote it over 12 years ago and it just got accepted.
I seldom write anything on this blog.
I wrote about a murderer and it took over a decade for it to be published. I murdered my Facebook self and list serve selves and was immediately set free.
Odd post--I know.