I connect you to the words that connect you to yourself.
You already know the words.
You already know the words to everything you are ever going to write.
You have already repurposed the same 26 letters into tens of thousands of expressions of ideas.
You’ve already said what you know how to say, and now you want to say something new, something different, something you can feel but can’t quite put into words.
Welcome to my web, my capturing device, my frayed asterisk at the corner.
Capturing Device, the website and the blog, is for me what I hope it will also be for you—poetic license to rewrite myself (yourself, ourselves) on the world. As a poet, teacher, & changemaker, I capture the everyday, every day & give it back in startling & familiar ways.
You already know the words. Let’s put the ones you want to hard use.
Giving sagacious women poetic license to rewrite themselves on the world.
I’m Paula, a poet & professor who uses poetry and its adjacents (jk—everything is poetry-adjacent) to connect you to the words that connect you to yourself. You already know the words. Let’s put them to hard use.
Not complete but drawing your attention, marking out a space. It is violent, strategic, and imprisoning. It is beautiful, vulnerable, and strong.
But do I have to write a blog?
Some words feature their ugly with a sound and mouth feel that lingers after the word is gone (sludge, gusset, fetid, moist). Like acid colors and triangle patterns in nature, they warn you to stay away.
Others engage the sickly boniness of their aristocratic inbreeding (pulchritude, bucolic, effulgence) to simply scare you off & save them from doing work. And some are linguistic carrion flowers that lure you in with their liquid sibilance before springing their deadly denotations (acquiesce, hirsute, silverfish).
But a word like blog doesn’t threaten or disdain or tease. It doesn’t do anything but sit, like a tepid lump of beige (not even griege)—unformed, flabby, & tired.
Blog is the sole-surviving syllable of a shantytown portmanteau: weblog. Blog has survivor’s guilt. It’s a purposely ugly word, blog. There has to be something better.
So today, and probably tomorrow, I will explore other words to denote and connote this weblog of musings, missives, and meanderings. This confluence of ephemera, this commonplace, this capturing device.
Casserole, pt. 1
There is no such thing as required cookies or medical-grade cookies or cookies of necessity, though that would be a good name for a bakery.
Damp
Wine is expensive—sharing it is an act of generosity—you are giving away something you worked hard to acquire. In a stemmed goblet or a clay beaker or a paper cup, wine is the same experience. And that shared experience allows us to commune across space and time—it’s an intimacy of billions.
Noises Off!
As much as I love an emphatic, one word shut down, I’m thinking a phrase (or rather a clause) is better. I need to corral my day rather than stomp it to a hard stop. I need a string of words like a velvet rope—the exclusive club is closed for now, but I have the password to get back in.
Because it’s summer & summer plays by its own rules. Sometimes. When it damn well feels like it.