Aimee Herman's Blog, page 37
January 9, 2015
here is how it will happen.
You will receive health insurance for the first time in eight years minus one summer.
A human dressed in a different version of��queer than you will ask: “So, how’s your gender going these days.”
And you will smile because there is something so rewarding about breathing sometimes and you will inhale so deeply, you can taste your organs.
“Everything is still forming its bones,” you answer. “There are some things that are getting louder and some things that are feeling stronger in me.”
When you mention��hysterectomy, you do not announce��the time your professor��at the university near the mountains thought you already had one due to the way you were writing about your blood and carved out structure.
You want to cry the moment your lover tells you, “I imagine you wearing the chest��you dream about, not the one that greets me each night.”
You hoard that free coffee, owed to you on punch card from favorite cafe, housed in your wallet. You want to save it for a time that celebrates something you’ve been longing for.
You will revisit a lover who loved you when you were still searching for the instruments to carve out��the vocabulary of your thoughts. It will be like time never passed and you will relocate that smile you had before that time you used to pretend away. You will kiss a map of all the years onto the palm of the others’ hand.
“But do you even want to figure all this out?” says the one dressed in warm and sleep-deprived.
“This? Is it something to��figure out or untwist like knots of curious yarn,” you answer.
You’ve got too many turns in you, so you say: “I’m just looking to feel alive from all my angles. I want to play��seek,��rather than��hide��so much.”
Here is how it will happen.
You will stop locking yourself away like a diary with blank pages. You��deserve��to be read.
You will kiss and you will opposite-of-rhyme and you will read enough books to feed your eyes. And you will whistle even in the winter when your lips shiver. And you will wake. And you will wake. And you will stay.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", gender, genderqueer, hysterectomy, life, love, poem, queer body, writing
January 7, 2015
words which can now be found.
Thank you to��Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal for publishing my poem,��texture of a mushroom.��This is an excellent publication that “celebrates the commotion of liminal space.”
Click on the link above to read the poem and listen to the audio version as well!
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", body, gender, genderqueer, Hermeneutic Chaos Journal, mushrooms, poem, poems about gender, texture of a mushroom
January 1, 2015
luf |l��v| (like very much; find pleasure in)
What do you mean you’re lost. This is exactly where you were heading toward. There is water somewhere over there and��look! there’s a chorus of trees humming your favorite song. There are patches of shade beside the sun and ducks beside the turtles and is that an alpaca���
This is just what you’ve been looking for and it is easy and pronounceable. It is romantic and cinematic.��You are learning a new language, but you’ve heard so many of these words before. Sometimes ease can be difficult to get used to because you never expected it to exist.
Breathe in this aroma. Some call it magic. You call it��luf.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", Cheryl Strayed, in love, love, magic, poetry
December 31, 2014
new year.
Wake. Remember that there is a new date now. It may take you awhile to get used to this. Breathe. I know you know how to do this, but be present with each inhale.��Do not make any excessive promises or commitments like weight loss or gym membership. Just arrive in this new year. Be kind to yourself and recall that these first few months can be difficult. Walk toward bookshelf. Choose a book you haven’t touched in awhile. Go to page 47 or 132 or whatever page your fingers stop on. Choose a word that your eyes first connect to. Repeat it out loud as though it is your name. This is your prayer. Infuse it into your sentences. Use it as the first title of your first poem of this new year. Or inscribe it in a letter to someone you’ve forgotten to call.
Go somewhere where you are welcome. Where you are acknowledged as��human. Go somewhere where you may feel inspired by the sounds you hear. Go somewhere where you can feel nourished. Go somewhere where you can learn; go somewhere where you can teach.
Be present.
Today, from 2 pm to 12 pm, there is a marathon poetry reading,��Shadow of the Geode,��at The Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe at 236 E. 3rd Street in NYC. This is their 21st Alternative New Year’s Day Marathon of poetry. Stay for an hour or come for the whole experience.
Filed under: SHOWS | video, WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", 2015, 21st Alternative New Year's Day Marathon of poetry, free poetry in NYC, new year, new year's day poetry reading, Nuyorican Marathon of Poetry, Nuyorican Poet's Cafe, NYC Poetry, NYC spoken word, poetry, Shadow of the Geode
December 30, 2014
day 31: new titles.
The year of Lost and Lost.
The year of Lost and Found and Lost.
The year of Fumble and Foundations.��
The year of Poetry.
The year of Lust and Linger.
The year of Trying and Trouble.��
The year of Struggle and Rehab.
The year of Yearn.
The year of Relocation and Reconfigure.
The year of City.
The year of Loans and Loss.
The year of Letters.
The year of Wishing.
The year of Books and Borrow.
The year of Music and Making.
The year of Movement and Magic.
The year of Listening and Learning.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", 2015, learn, listen, loss, love, new year, poem, year of learning and listening
December 29, 2014
day 30: to be.
���Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.��� �� …Oscar Wilde.
It can be difficult to stick out, but boxes can be so small sometimes and there may be a need to bust up the perfect right-angled corners and redecorate what may be expected of you. Just because you identified as��one thing yesterday, doesn’t mean you need to be exactly the same way today. Minds and bodies are subject to change.
You may meet someone who actually celebrates your inconsistencies and box-shattering moments, rather than bullying you back into an identity that never felt quite right.
When was the last time you asked someone how their day was and then��remained to hear their answer? And have you ever (brace yourself)��walked up to someone who was experimenting with the language of themselves and��thanked them for the bravery of being��out?
Who are you living for and how accurate is your existence? Are you mirroring the ones around you or are you creating a true reflection of who you��want to be.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", acceptance, boxes, gender, genderqueer, identity, living out loud, living outside of boxes, love, Oscar Wilde, poetry
December 28, 2014
day 29: edit away the disturb of loneliness.
Silence can be so loud, you have a difficult time connecting to breaths. However, silence can also be a song you memorize and never forget the words to. It’s melody will become like a harmonized history of everything you ever called��beautiful.
They called you��good. They said,��You agree to too much and you give in.
So, you stop. You fold your tongue into intricate origami contraptions. Your taste buds turn into swans and kayaks and butterflies and boxes.
There is so much generosity beneath your fingernails, which is why you bite them. With each spit of keratin across the room, you are spreading this munificence everywhere you go.
Your yawns do not need to be introduced. You can laugh at a joke that remains inside you.
Why is loneliness such a whisper? Have you even memorized the various octaves of your sighs and gulps?��Scream out your��alone and be inside the gloriousness of solitude.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", alone, life, memory, poem, poetry, silence, solitude
December 27, 2014
day 28: territory
You belong to the wind; you carry maps in every pocket from left to right but never peek at them; you are lonely but never alone; you cling to sad but drink laughter through straws that twist and scrape; you are rained on but you know how to splash in puddles that press beneath you; you bleed each month, but you exist on two plains; you are loved but struggle with the aftershock; you are hungry; you sing; you hide yet are not always seeked; you have lied; you collect��death behind the yellow and beside the red; you belong to autumn and poetry and every leaf you ever plucked and kept; you are in search of; you are searching; you have searched and sometimes you get closer; you are alive; you enjoy kissing but have a difficult time committing to mouths; you keep an extra set of drawers hidden to keep secrets; you keep secrets; you belong to the trees; you belong to the water that helps you float; you belong to February and blue; you are difficult; you are desired; you neglect your health; you are healthy; you do not always know the status of your sick; you like to dance but only when you are alone; you are often alone; you often forget to understand; you ask questions; you are questioned; you are split; you are; you; belong.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", belong, journey, learning, love, maps, poem, searching, territory
December 26, 2014
day 27: tracking.
It took you three thousand, two hundred and eighty-five days to get here. You fell in love three and a half more times with six people. You lost a pregnancy; you lost three gloves. You gained weight, several new words and two college degrees. You cut your hair; you lost your hair; you bought some hair. You learned about mountain top removal and composting. You read several books you cannot recall and you wrote some books. There were fourteen blackouts: several from various weather configurations, one due to a past due bill and the others connected to your inability to curb your alcoholism. You took a bath. You learned how to knit. You purchased a mattress and almost fell off a fire escape due to your inability to curb your alcoholism. You became sober. You cooked the most delicious meal for yourself. You learned how to banter. You took one thousand and ninety-five naps. You grew an affection for hard-boiled eggs. You had a biopsy. You moved nine times. You applied for health insurance; you acquired a primary care physician. You gained more weight. You fell in love for an evening. You purchased a pet. You lost your pet. You learned how to play a musical instrument; you lost seventeen friends. You traveled overseas; you took a road trip. You contemplated lipstick. You purchased two succulents. You tried��Natt��. You had three affairs minus the six you do not mention. You still bite your nails. You still collect stamps and phone numbers. You still forget to breathe sometimes. You still fall asleep hungry some nights. You still think of _____. You still do not know how to crochet or apologize correctly. You are still alone; you are constantly surrounded. You still desire stillness. You are still learning. You are still drafting drifting dreaming.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", dreaming, life, love, memory, poem, reflection, searching
December 25, 2014
day 26: read (some more)
Reading a book��is like being in a relationship. There are moments you do not want it to end, yet there are also times when you feel more than ready to walk away from it. There are disappointments, but also surprises. Sometimes, there are sequels, which just elongates the pleasure.
I’ve had entire summers dedicated to writers, unable to say goodbye to their language: Mary Gaitskill, Haruki Murakami, Charles Bukowski, even an orgy of Pablo Neruda, Kazim Ali and Hafiz.
It is easy to use the excuse:��there is just no time to read a book, but time must be paved and watered.
When I read, I travel to countries and territories I may never get the opportunity to discover. I meet characters who help me to understand myself and the world around me. I read poems that expand my vision. Reading reminds me to always believe in magic.
Here are just a few great books I read this year and highly recommend:
Nevada��(Topside Press) ��by Imogen Binnie. Throughout this book, I felt like I was part of the bike gears turning over bridges as the narrator, Maria, traveled toward and away from herself. I was significantly blown away by this novel and the honest, funny and emotional writing of Imogen Binnie. After reading this book, I purchased,��The Collection, which is a phenomenal anthology of transgender writers, including Binnie. I just didn’t want to let go of her yet.
Man Alive��(City Lights Publishing)��by Thomas Page McBee is a memoir exploring masculinity and a highly focused dissection of the past. It is poetic and brutal and exploratory. I found myself folding over the corners of pages in order to go back to his words. I even underlined some things, faintly, since it was a library book. This one I need to purchase, so I can reread and rediscover.
Prosperity, A Novel��(Dog Ear Publishing) by Jenna Leigh Evans. I was blown away by Evans’s vocabulary and cinematic approach to the ways in which debt can be overpowering and (oddly) funny. It is beyond relatable, since I want to believe that everyone is slathered in some form of debt. The entire time I was reading this book, I felt like I was��watching it.��Her mind is so illustrative and she crafted a place that I could see in every scene, down to the color and smell of it all.
For Today I Am a Boy��(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt) ��by Kim Fu explored the complex relationship of gender and��culture. I fell in love with the protagonist, Peter Huang, and loved being a part of his journey away from and toward home. Kim Fu brings such dynamic characters together up until even the very end of this novel.
An Untamed State�� (Grove Press)��by Roxanne Gay has infiltrated my dreams and has sewed itself to my palm. I am forever changed by the horrific accounts of the protagonist, Miri. Roxanne Gay already had me with “Bad Feminist”. I fell in love with her frankness. Here, in this novel, she captivates my core. I feel bloodied and battered from the scenes she creates.To write that I��could not put this down is not exact enough. Even when I put it down, I was reading it.��I want to ask Gay: How did you leave these scenes while writing them? How were you able to move through the world (eat lunch with friends, watch a television program, sleep) with these images crafted by your mind and fingers. This book MUST be read.
Retrograde��(great weather for MEDIA) by Puma Perl surprised me in such marvelous��ways. I’ve been a fan of Puma Perl’s since moving back to Brooklyn almost five years ago. Her poetry is gritty, like rock-n-roll slurs of graffiti against the page. I’ve seen her perform many times and she slides her words out seductively and authoritatively. I have read most of (if not all) of her books and find that this collection shows such immeasurable growth that makes me an even bigger fan than I already was.
the pedestrians��(Wave Books) by Rachel Zucker feels like a walk through the subconscious mind. This is what I imagine it might feel like to hold hands with another���s frontal lobe, interlocking fingers with mood and behavioral status.��There is a saltiness to her prose. A desperation drenched in almost-stale tears.��It is a unique experience to read a book of poetry and want to call it a ���page-turner���, but this one definitely is.
Here (Mariner Books) by Wislawa Szymborska became my travel date on a long walk through Greenpoint, Brooklyn one day. I carried her words around and could feel the seep of her line breaks saturate my skin; her words drip. I feel full when I read her, like I’ve just eaten a meal full of protein and starches and my insides feel bathed. There is an optimism in her writing that also reveals a bit of loneliness as well.
Filed under: WRITING | rambles Tagged: "aimee herman", An Untamed State, Bad Feminist, book recommendations, books, books read, City Lights Books, Dog Ear Publishing, For Today I am a Boy, great weather for media, Here by Wislawa Szymborska, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Imogen Binnie, Jenna Leigh Evans, Kim Fu, love, love of reading, Man Alive, Nevada, Nevada by Imogen Binnie, NYC poet, poet, Prosperity, Prosperity a novel, Prosperity by Jenna Leigh Evans, Puma Perl, Rachel Zucker, reading, retrograde, Retrograde by Puma Perl, Roxanne Gay, the pedestrians, Thomas Page McBee, Topside Press, Wislawa Szymborska
