Tag Archives: nablopomo

(nablopomo #8) in the other rooms

graffiti of a pink-red heart with a black bar emerging/opening from the middleGood morning. It’s light already by the time I’ve gotten myself situated at the computer and by the time my poor old pc gets all booted up and warm and ready. I’m tired this morning. The alarm goes off at 4.30 and I don’t even pretend to get up, just reach over, turn it off, and snuggle back down under the covers.

Last night’s Write Whole workshop was fantastic: strong, deep and engaged writing. It’s been a couple weeks of hard processing around my head and heart, lots of excavating writing, all that damn self care and the energies that it stirs up and the way I need to slow down, take some time to process it all without writing, away from the notebook.

I figured that this morning I’d just get up and do a quick blog in response to the nablopomo prompts — last week those were pretty light-hearted, writing-focused prompts, so, no problem.

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(nablopomo #7) wild birds fly (together)

german graffiti: Zahme Vogel singen von Freiheit, vilde Vogel fliegen (then an anarchist symbol)

Translation: Tame birds sing of freedom, wild birds fly.

Good morning good morning — here I am again, after just 10 hours. So nice to feel that connectedness and thread. This morning’s tea is jasmine green & peppermint — how are you waking up today?

After yesterday’s post, I made sure to do some notebook writing this morning before getting into the blog. There’s so much erupting for me right now, and instead of getting swept away moment to moment, I want to take that breathing time on the page, collect what’s been happening, how I feel about it, churn it around, find the stories, the threads, the feelings.

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(nablopomo #6) because my writing had asked more

Bansky graffiti, of two Bobbies (British police officers) in a passionate embraceHappy Sunday evening to you — it’s late-night blog time (at least for me). No prompts today, just the need to blog every day, as a part of my commitment to nablopomo, so I’m going to return to some plain old free-association for tonight.

I want to write about quite a lot tonight, about community and spirit, about radical honesty, about sorrow, about connection and form and hope. But I’m giving myself 20 minutes to pour this stream of consciousness out onto the page (which is the screen before me), so I’m not going to get into any of those. Instead I’m going to write about the pain of attending to one’s desire.

I went to google images to find the image for today’s post, like I always do; using the advanced search, I looked for “graffiti Sunday” in images that labeled for reuse, and the image above is one of the few results returned. It feels like exactly what I hope for in much of my writing, in particular, the writing I do around desire: capturing that moment of profound transgression, when we cross a deep line inside ourselves or within our community, in order to reach for what we need. The bobbies up there aren’t just violating the still-extant taboo about men desiring,  embracing and kissing other men, they’re also violating the taboo around those in power showing vulnerability, softness, public displays of affection. Affection, I mean — not laciviousness — certainly, we have plenty of examples of those in positions of power taking what they desire by force and hostility.  These two at the top of this post, they are melting into each other, so longing for lips against lips that they don’t care about any of the other rules and regulations. We see how even they, ultimately, are not bound by the stringent rules we place around sexuality and desire, rules they so often are supposed to enforce.

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(nablopomo #5) the many ways you find to sustain your fierce and tender spirit

graffiti on brick -- group of people, joyous, sitting at a table set with bread and vegetablesGood morning, owl — thanks for joining me in the quiet. downstairs the neighbors are up, too, getting into their closets — sounds like it’s happening in our own apartment.

What are the sounds that are greeting you this morning?

It’s the weekend, and so I slept in late, didn’t get started with the morning writing until after 5:30. The alarm went off and then I spent a little time being quiet in my bed, having that stretch of just-awakeness where I think about the dreams I’m still not quite out of, noticing that it’s much colder outside the covers than beneath them, tustling slowly toward considering the work of the day. I have this conversation in my head almost every morning:

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(nablopomo #4) how long it took to get to that chair

graffiti of a red heart on a blue lockGood morning! The chill has landed — it’s cool enough that I could easily be in a cap and happy for the extra warmth. Too cool for the puppy to be out here with me in the office — she’s still curled up in her warm bed in the bedroom.

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Today’s prompt from nablopomo is this: When you are writing, do you prefer to use a pen or a computer? I’d prefer, always, the notebook, the good pen, the smell of coffee nearby; the writing flows so much differently for me, less edited, less self-aware, when I’m handwriting. I’ve begun doing more generative writing on the computer, because I have such a hard time making space to type up my notebook writes. At this point in my writing life, I do my workshop writing in notebooks, and the rest of the time, I’m writing into the computer.

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(nablopomo day 3) what sings to you?

graffiti of a bass clef on a window

Good morning! It’s the day after Oakland’s general strike — do you feel the transformation in the air? The people are singing. That, yesterday, was real change. Real hope. Real democracy.

We were there for part of the march/action at the ports — I’m so deeply grateful to have been able to participate, to put my body in the place of the work.

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(NaBloPoMo) #2: What you’d eat (& strike!)

graffiti (red on concrete): resistance is fertileYesterday, I said I was going to jump in to this National Blog Posting Month at BlogHer. For the rest of the month, I’ll be incorporating their prompts into my daily blog.

Good morning, good morning. Here where I am, the music is so quiet that I can barely hear it, and the birds are still asleep. I actually managed to get out of bed around the time when my (second) alarm went off at 4.30 today — I think I’m getting back on schedule. The puppy has taken to getting up when I do and coming into the office to sleep next to me, which I adore. (It helps, I think, that I put an extremely comfy pillow down there to entice her.) How is it where you are?

For NaBloPoMo Day 2, the prompt they offer is this: If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?

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(NaBloPoMo) #1: What you like best

graffiti that reads 'If not now, when?'It’s National Blog Posting Month over at BlogHer — since I’m already in the middle of a novel and don’t want to start another one right now, I’m going to take on this daily challenge instead. The folks at BlogHer are suggesting topics for each day’s blog, so I’m going to start out with those.

(I love how November has become the month for writing your heart out: Besides NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo, there’s WNFIN and I know a few folks who are taking on 30-poems-in-30-days challenges this month as well. How are you marking this month of writing like mad?)

Edit: Dorothy commented to let me know that it’s also National Playwriting Month. Thanks, Dorothy, for passing the word!

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