Caitlin Johnson's Blog, page 11

The Gods in the Wilderness Playlist, Part 2

As with Boomerang Girl (and other projects) before it, I decided it would be fun to make a playlist for Gods in the Wilderness, my upcoming full-length poetry collection. This one is longer, to correspond with the length of the manuscript, and I'll spread it out over two posts to make it more manageable. To read Part 1, click here.
***
1) "Sam Hall," Johnny Cash"Sam Hall" is all about the speaker saying, "Hey, man, fuck you." I'm not taking a stance on whether this is right or wrong, but damn, can I relate to Sam.
2) "Dy'er Mak'er," Led ZeppelinAh, the keen sting of a lover's departure: a recurring theme in music as well as in my work.
3) "The First Taste," Fiona AppleWhen Apple sings, "Full is not heavy as empty, / not nearly, my love," I know exactly what she means: the way emptiness drains us more than fullness, to the point where we'll do anything to be full again.
4) "Love the Way You Lie," Eminem featuring RihannaVolatile relationships are a standby in music and literature. Eminem and Rihanna know this better than most people out there, and the way Rihanna delivers her chorus will haunt you.
5) "If You Could Read My Mind," Gordon LightfootAh, Gord. At one point in the song, he says, "But for now, love, / let's be real." The honesty here is incredible and incredibly relevant to my poetry.
6) "Out of My Bones," Randy TravisRandy Travis sings his way through the pain, and I happen to write my way through it.
7) "Hook," Blues TravelerYou may have noticed the '90s trend on the first half of this playlist. I can't help it--these are the songs that defined my days before I started writing, and some part of me continues to seek them out.
8) "I Can't Get Next to You," Al GreenThe lone voice of color on my overwhelmingly white playlist (sorry) knows the pain of having everything but the one thing he wants (needs?), and no one can deliver such a story quite the way that Al Green can.
9) "Push and Shove," No DoubtThe frenetic energy here is much stronger than the momentum I manage to build in my writing, but a girl can always aspire to get on Stefani's level.
10) "Make It Wit Chu," Queens of the Stone AgeAs Josh Homme sings, "I ain't here to break it, / just see how far it will bend." That's the approach I take to my poetry, and maybe also my life.
11) "Heart of Gold," Neil YoungIf you can't relate to this song, you're damn lucky. As it is, I'm glad I can appreciate it even more because I know, in my bones, what Young means.
12) "Wild," POE"Wild" could have come straight out of my own head, if I had anything like POE's talent for creating tales of betrayal.
13) "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)," Nancy SinatraMany thanks to Quentin Tarantino for using this in Kill Bill, which, in turn, made me realize what a soft spot I have for Nancy Sinatra.
14) "Karol Simon," Sleepless InnFun fact: Sleepless Inn is a local group, and I am so happy to have discovered their work (as much as I was able to "discover" 15) "I Want to Break Free," QueenBecause every great playlist needs its Freddie Mercury moment.
16) "I Found a Reason," Cat PowerI find this to be far superior to the Velvet Underground original. Sacrilege, probably, but true because Chan Marshall's haunting vocals linger in your ears even after the song has finished.
17) "Samba Nova," Stone Temple PilotsThis long-shelved track of STP's was intended for Shangri-La Dee Da but didn't see the light of day until it emerged as a bonus track on Stone Temple Pilots. I wish like Hell that it had debuted when it was first recorded so I could have had those extra years of hearing it.
18) "This Protector," White Stripes"Three hundred people living out in West Virginia / have no idea of all these thoughts that lie within you," Jack White tells me, but here's hoping that they'll know now.
19) "I Am the Highway," AudioslaveThere is a line from this song that sums up both Gods and my writing in general: "I've put millions of miles under my heels, / and still too close to you I feel." But would I ever want to get away from the written word itself? Absolutely not.
-Cate-

The Gods in the Wilderness Playlist, Part 1

As with Boomerang Girl (and other projects) before it, I decided it would be fun to make a playlist for Gods in the Wilderness, my upcoming full-length poetry collection. This one is longer, to correspond with the length of the manuscript, and I'll spread it out over two posts to make it more manageable. Come back on Friday for Part 2!

***

1) "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," Green Day
Call me emo. Call me a sell-out. I literally DNGAF, because this is the theme song for lingering teenage angst, which I suffer from.

2) "Like Flames," Berlin
I want hair--and a voice--like Terri Nunn's. I want to be the person who brought this song to life. And "The Metro." And "No More Words." And "Take My Breath Away." But for now, I'll settle for being an admirer of hers (and the band's).

3) "Gimme a Ride to Heaven Boy," Terry Allen
Once upon a time, a wacky biology professor introduced me to this song. I wouldn't trade it for anything, and I want everyone else to hear it, too.

4) "Hell," Squirrel Nut Zippers
There is a great deal of religious imagery in this collection, in spite of the fact that I rarely go to church. "Hell" is, at times, the perfect song to go along with my words because of its sheer wackiness.

5) "Closer," Nine Inch Nails
As someone heavily influenced by the music of the 1990s, I can't help but keep "Closer" as a touchstone. Anyone old enough to remember this song will know what I mean. (PS If you're easily offended, this is probably not the song--or video--for you. Fair warning.)

6) "Bloody Mary," Lady Gaga
The defining line of this song, for me, is the one where Gaga sings, "And when you're gone, / I'll tell them my religion's you." I feel her so much on that one that it informs several of these poems.

7) "Everybody Out of the Water," The Wallflowers
Do you remember when the Wallflowers first hit? Of course you do: "One Headlight" was nigh unto inescapable. I wish that people knew more about their later work, as well, and particularly this track, with its apocalyptic vision and insistent lyrics.

8) "Pillar of Davidson," Live
The first music video I remember seeing was the one for "Lightning Crashes," but there is so much more to Live than that one song. Throwing Copper is an incredible album, and I'm happy to say that this track belongs here.

9) "Comedown," Bush
I don't think I know a single straight or bisexual girl of my generation who didn't have an enormous crush on Gavin Rossdale or cry a little when Gwen Stefani took him off the market.

10) "Undun," The Guess Who
Because who doesn't love some Canadian classic rock with a touch of jazz flute?

11) "Amazing," Madonna
When I listen to Music, Madonna's 2000 follow-up to Ray of Light, I tend to gravitate to the middle of the album, particularly this '60s-influenced collaboration with William Orbit (who is also partly responsible for "Beautiful Stranger" and "I'm a Sinner," songs that wear his influence proudly).

12) "Wrecking Ball," Miley Cyrus
Haters to the left.

13) "Under My Thumb," Rolling Stones
Yes, I know: this song is wildly misogynistic. And yet, I don't care, because it sounds good and describes the way the world tends to treat women in a way that makes me want to sing along.

14) "Anything But Down," Sheryl Crow
I can always get behind a good Sheryl Crow song, and this one is a universal tale of toxic love. 

15) "Three Days," Willie Nelson
For those of my friends who believe I know nothing about country music: I've actually seen Willie in concert, he was amazing, and this song is part of my Top 100. It's quintessential country, what with its tale of lost love, and fits well with some of my own work.

16) "Scar Tissue," Red Hot Chili Peppers
I've been quoting this song since it first appeared on the airwaves. Anthony Keidis sings, "I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl," and I will, too.

17) "Murphy," Erin Harkes and the Rebound
Sadly, I cannot find a video of this song on YouTube, but go look it up. Erin is great and brilliant and I love her work and wish I had written this song.

18) "Come Along," Titiyo
The two halves of this playlist roughly correspond with the two halves of the manuscript, and I like to think that "Come Along" has its analog in my poem "North/South": an invitation to see what's going on and continue traversing the path we've started down.

-Cate-

"Here She Comes; It's Killing Time" (From the Archives)

You remember that time when I was talking about how Franz Ferdinand sounded to me like the soundtrack to 1960s Britain? Turns out that Karen Elson is their long-lost counterpart or something, because her first album, The Ghost Who Walks, gives me that same feeling, but in a different way.



Now, as it happens, Karen Elson is more well-known for one of two things: either her (now-dissolved) marriage to Jack White of the White Stripes or her modeling career. In fact, she is one of my favorite models ever, thanks to her always perfect facial expressions and the way she carries herself (and, as a side note, she replaced Angelina Jolie as the face of St. John a few years ago and did very well, in my opinion). And while I think that modeling is her true calling, she's done a bang-up job of putting an album together, as well.

Coming in at around 42 1/2 minutes, it's not a particularly long album (the longest song runs 4:21, but most range between 3:00 and 3:50). But in twelve tracks, Elson covers a good deal of ground. The title track has a distinct 60s-era garage sound, possibly influenced by Jack White, although Elson strikes me as the kind of person who came to this sound on her own, and that's why she and White are such a good match. Something interesting to note about "The Ghost Who Walks" is that it works just as well acoustically as it does with a full band, and in fact, the first time I ever heard it was the acoustic way. See here for the acoustic and here for the full band. Note, though, that these videos were recorded live, so even the full-band version sound as little different than the album cut. The upshot of this is that you realize that she's not just some overproduced rock star's wife--she actually knows what she's doing.

In contrast to the garage sound are the more country-influenced tracks, "Lunasa," "Cruel Summer," "The Last Laugh," and "Mouths to Feed" (and when I say country, I mean the more classic country sound, like the kind of songs you'd hear on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack). Other sounds also abound. "100 Years from Now" is a strange carnival-type song and has a Mary Poppins kind of vibe to it. There's a certain kind of urgency to "Garden," and it calls to mind the very best aspects of 1990s alternative music. "The Thief at My Door" sounds almost like Sheryl Crow's "Weather Channel."

But for me, the tracks that stand out the most are "Stolen Roses," "The Truth Is in the Dirt," and "Pretty Babies." "Stolen Roses" sounds a bit like the flip side of Madonna's "La Isla Bonita 2008" with its Roma-influenced tones. But at the same time, it takes the country influence, and I can almost hear Hank Williams singing this song. "The Truth Is in the Dirt," on the other hand, pulls more of the garage rock sound in, fusing it with a blues-type structure, evident in the repetition of certain lines. And in a way, the chorus is almost a battle cry: "Here she comes; it's killing time. / Flames are burning behind her eyes."

"Pretty Babies," my very favorite song on the album, calls to mind The Hives' cover of "Find Yourself Another Girl" (from their album Veni Vidi Vicious) plus Scott Weiland's "Lady, Your Roof Brings Me Down" and "Divider," with part of "Barbarella" (from his first solo album, 12 Bar Blues) thrown in for good measure. Again, a certain Sheryl Crow sound is evident, as well as a touch of Fiona Apple. The best thing is that everyone can relate to the lyrics. For example, "Gambled every bit of sense I had, / And now I've lost it all to you" and "I watch the faces as they pass me by; / I'm hoping that I'll see you." Basically, it's one of the most perfect break-up songs ever.

I hope you'll check Elson's work out; she's really very good, and I think we can expect more good music from her in the future.

Buy the whole album through Best Buy for $11.99.

Images via Elson's website.

-Cate

That Moment When You Realize You're Home

Back in the winter, I decided one day that it was time to make one of my random pilgrimages to the Detroit Institute of Arts. This is, without a doubt, my favorite place in all of Michigan, and it was my first trip to the museum since both my move and the very, very dark days of Detroit's bankruptcy crisis (let's not even talk about it). 
Sometime in 2013, during a vacation, I was at this same museum, in the gift shop, where the cashier asked me if I was a member. I said no; living in a different state made such an extravagance unnecessary. But I said to him--and to myself--that if and when I moved back to Michigan, I would join. On 16 January 2015, I made good on that promise. 
The man at the membership desk asked if I was a resident of Wayne County, and for the first time in ten years, I could answer in the affirmative and mean it. Yes, my permanent address is in Wayne County. Yes, my mailing address is the same as my permanent. Yes, I live in Wayne County.
Later that night, after my excursion was over and I worked on this blog, all of this occurred to me in one of those weird moments that should have been earth-shaking but wasn't. Because it was the culmination of a day of being home: I'd (stupidly) made a wrong turn on the way to the museum but recovered by looping around streets I was beginning to internalize again, I'd spent time with my (imaginary) art boyfriend Vincent van Gogh's works, I'd committed to my city/county/state in a real way, and all while wrapped in my winter coat--which no longer got in my way. 
It hasn't been a perfect transition, by any means. But I'm working on it. Even as my plans continue to stall out, I'm figuring out what it means to be a Michigander and Detroiter again, and that--in and of itself--is a great accomplishment, simply because I'm no longer quite as adrift as I was a year ago today when I was laid off and the ground caved in under me. 
-Cate-

Long Live the Bookstore

You know that moment when you're in a bookstore and the world seems perfect? No? Well, go away; you're clearly reading the wrong blog.
I love bookstores more than just about anything. Think about it: an entire shop dedicated to the written word. It doesn't matter if they're big or small spaces. Chains like Barnes & Noble may have a wider variety of the popular stuff, but independent booksellers are more likely to be able to direct you to a title that suits your personality and preferences because they're invested in the written word and in their customer base. Used bookstores are awesome in their own right, because they have former bestsellers at a reduced price and tons of random things you may not find in another store, either because it's a rare book or one that's out of print.
The most devastating thing I can imagine is the disappearance of the bookstore. Because it's more than just the economics of it: cut jobs, fewer publication opportunities, and so on. It's the thought that people might turn away from the written word altogether. So if you happen to give a flying whatever, visit a bookstore soon and buy something for yourself. And your friends. And your kids. And basically anyone you know. Remind them--and yourself--of the power of books and bookstores. If nothing else, it'll make you feel like Belle when she's singing to those sheep about Prince Charming, and that's a pretty great experience, am I right?

-Cate-

The Year of the Two

So. Shit got real this year.
In an unexpected turn of events, a publisher I'd queried (Pink.Girl.Ink. Press) contacted me in late January to inform me that yes, they would like to publish my full-length poetry manuscript, Gods in the Wilderness. It was one of those moments where I had to read the e-mail eight or nine thousand times to fully comprehend the situation. 
This is a strange feeling for me. When I moved home, everything was crap and I kind of wanted to die a little and I was convinced that I would have to give up on the things I'd worked toward my whole life. Now, I feel so lucky to be in demand (if that's what you would call it).
With the publication of Boomerang Girl right around the corner, I wanted to share this news as well; after all, about a third of the material in Gods comes from BG. My little chapbook is wonderful and I love it more than I can say, and I would have been happy with BG alone. Now, I have twice as many opportunities to reach people with my words. I hope I can live up to the things I've been given.
-Cate-

Things I've Considered Studying Instead of Creative Writing

Although it was, ultimately, a foregone conclusion that I would study creative writing when I went to college, I had my doubts. If we're being completely honest, I still do. But here, presented with commentary, is the list of stuff that flitted through my mind in between frantic story-crafting sessions and which continues to keep me up at night.
1) HistoryLast year, my father was shocked to learn that I am a "closet historian." That's his phrase, not mine; I thought my interest in history was well-documented, but it would appear not. I have a particular interest in Am Rev and the European theater of World War II, which may seem pedestrian, but considering that I'm solidly an American lit and pop culture girl, it's not at all surprising. Besides, how cool would it be to hang around Colonial Williamsburg all day or watch Disney's wartime cartoon propaganda shorts and write about them?
2) Public RelationsNowadays, I realize that I don't enjoy being around people. Even ordering pizza over the phone makes me so nervous that I refuse to do it. Ergo, studying public relations would have been a terrible career move. Yet the idea of shaping the perceptions of the masses continues to fascinate me. This is probably an offshoot of the storytelling impulse. 
3) SociologyAfter taking a soc course in high school, I thought, "This is some interesting stuff." More broad than psychology, less demanding than social work. To this day, I wonder if I should have pursued this path. My mother has assured me that I would have been unhappy, but I think I could have done something along the lines of the sociology of popular culture and been satisfied.
4) FilmmakingTechnically, what I considered studying was screenwriting, but I was interested in the entire process. There are still days when I see something so wonderful in a movie that I almost cry over having skipped film school, but the more I learn about the industry, the more confident I am that I would have been blacklisted from the outset. This is due in large part to my attitude problem. Having a producer or studio executive hovering over me would set me off something fierce, I'm sure, and--as the saying goes--I would never work in that town again.
5) ArtI can't draw for shit, in spite of the fact that my parents paid for years of art lessons. I'm not entirely convinced my lack of talent would have mattered--hell, I can't write, yet I managed to graduate twice--but still, having a degree in art is even less useful than having a degree in creative writing. (Apologies to my art major friends, but they know it's true.)
Who knows? Maybe I'll still go down one of these avenues, albeit in a non-academic sense (the idea of going back to school literally gives me anxiety attacks). After all, the saying that you learn something new every day is both true and vital to good intellectual health. 
-Cate-

Special Update: Cate Is Going to Judge a Contest!

Hello All!

In the event that you or your friends are interested:

Tiger's Eye Press is now accepting submissions for its 2015 Chapbook Contest! Submit your work from 1 April - 31 August 2015.

2015 Judge: Caitlin Johnson

Send 20-25 pages of poetry with a title page, table of contents, and an acknowledgements page, all with no identifying information. Please include a second title page with your name and contact information.

Submit your entire manuscript, e-mail address or SASE, a 2-3 line bio, and a $15 reading fee to the address below.

Winner receives $100 and 25 copies of the published manuscript.

Tiger's Eye Press
P.O. Box 9723
Denver, CO
80209

For more information, visit http://www.tigerseyejournal.com or e-mail Colette Jonopulos at tigerseyepoet@yahoo.com

"Oh My God, I Can't Feel My Kneecaps," or, Surviving the Return Trip

I was lucky, in a way. Moving home in July allowed me some time to readjust to life in the North. And by "life in the North," I mostly mean the weather situation. I really did tell my BFF Kate that I couldn't feel my kneecaps one night when we were walking the two blocks from her apartment to a coffeehouse. Ten years of balmy Carolina weather didn't do me any favors. Seriously; I never even got a tan, and my blood thinned right the hell out. But there were other things, too. Cultural things.
Toward the end of my time in NC, I said to several people that the only thing I knew for sure was a decade in the South hadn't broken me of being a Northerner. Yet reentry wasn't easy. For starters, I no longer knew my hometown. The mall had changed. You could turn right on red at intersections where such a move was previously illegal. We didn't have a lady governor anymore. Only about three people I'd known in my previous life still lived in the area, and I'm lucky they're people I like. 
Being surrounded by Southerners for so long also gave me some weird verbal tics. I still say "y'all" on the reg, and my co-workers once stared at me for a full five seconds after I said to a customer, "Your change is two dollars and forty-five cent" (instead of "cents"). When people in the North say, "Bless your heart," I flinch, because I know it means the opposite in the South, and that's something you don't forget.
Having made a goodly number of trips home to MI from NC during my time away, I was at a bit of an advantage over anyone who may have just moved to the area with no prior experience. And having my parents down the hall was helpful when I had questions about which roads I was meant to take or where certain stores were located (or not, as the case sometimes is). 
Still, it's been a bit baffling to me, all of this snow and stuff. I'm honestly a little angry that most of my shoes now have salt stains on them--a consequence of cold-weather living about which I had forgotten. And nothing can replace making a run to Cook-Out, the mother of all fast-food restaurants, when I want a chicken sandwich. (I miss Cook-Out almost as much as I miss my blue bedroom, and that's saying something.) Time and space function differently in the suburbs than they do in the sticks. For example, there are days when I decide not to go somewhere because it's "too far away," even though it's only twenty miles down the road and I used to hop in the car to get dinner an hour and a half away in Fayetteville without a thought. Also, I never knew how good I had it when I was connected to our super-fast campus Internet; blogging, or even just cruising through Facebook, is now a far more fraught experience than it should be, given the spotty service in our house.
Leaving the house from time to time is a helpful way of coping. Most of our roads here go either straight east and west or straight north and south, so it's difficult to get truly lost. Eating local food unlocks a part of your brain that you maybe didn't realize was collecting dust. Tuning in to watch the nearby sports franchises brings a sense of belonging to your life, because millions of people are cheering along with you. 
Above all, taking a moment here and there to look around and realize that you're among your tribe again can make the difference between feeling lost and feeling found. 
-Cate-

Making Mistakes?

By this point, I've had quite a bit of time to think about my life and what I've done with it--the kind of soul-searching that comes with losing your job, apartment, and insurance all at once, or maybe just the kind that comes with living in your childhood bedroom against your will. (But thanks, Mom and Dad, for not turning it into a gym or some such nonsense. I appreciate having a place to crash.)
There's good news and there's bad news. First, the bad. Because I have an anxiety disorder, it's very easy for me to fall into a spiral of shame and despair: what if the things I've done in the past have completely negated my chances for future success why am I such a horrible human who is ever going to accept me now, et cetera and so on.
BUT! There are hours, and sometimes entire days, when I think, "Fuck it. I know what I did, I know why I did it, and I stand by (almost) all of it."
I'm not trying to get all self-righteous here and claim that I'm infallible. Clearly that's a crap notion. Should I have slacked off the way I did sometimes? Absolutely not. Should I have yelled at that table full of undergrads about their racial insensitivity? No; I should have taken a more rational approach.
On the other hand, should I have committed myself to publishing an anthology with my own money when my bosses refused to discuss the project with me? Shit yeah. Four very deserving young women saw their work in print as a result, and I couldn't be happier. And should I have written that letter telling administrators that what they were doing was detrimental to the well-being of our institution? You bet your ass. 
This is the ultimate thing I've concluded: it's okay. I won't say that I'm happy about the way things turned out, because being underemployed sucks. But I can't spend my time thinking that I made mistakes any bigger than anyone else in their 20s. I certainly didn't do anything I regret so much that I want to die or alter my memory Eternal Sunshine-style.

Besides, sometimes boxes of Pop-Tarts magically appear in the kitchen now, and that NEVER happened when I lived alone.

-Cate-