Juliet Cook's Blog, page 59

Happy February! A new Interview about me and my poetry and my Malformed Confetti appears in the NEW Issue 47 of Rogue Agent!

Delighted to have an interview about my poetry writing process and other poetic thoughts/feelings (and about my new full-length poetry book, Malformed Confetti, published by Crisis Chronicles Press in 2018) appearing within the NEW Issue 47 of Rogue Agent, surrounded by poetry!Juliet Cook talks about embodied poetry and writing Malformed Confetti, HERE - http://www.rogueagentjournal.com/jcook-2

obsessively cold day

I got my brain a little overly worked up and worried (and obsessive and borderline paranoid) about the weather last night.I opened most of my cupboards, hoping that none of my pipes would get frozen or burst. I turned my heat up one extra degree, just in case I LOST my heat, so that my house wouldn't quickly turn freezing.Early Wednesday morning is my neighborhood's trash pick up day and I wasn't sure if I should even put my trash can out, because in addition to the coldness and wind chill, I wasn't sure if it was going to be too windy and I certainly did not want to walk around in the freezing cold looking for a trash can that got blown away. I probably wouldn't have even put it out, but my parents had stuck a big trash bag of theirs into my trash can - and since I only have one trash can now (do to my other one blowing away a few weeks ago), if I had not put it out this week, I would have accumulated too much garbage to fit in my one trash can next week. So I ended up taking it out earlier than usual, before it got really cold, but then I kept obsessively checking the weather and worrying about it blowing away.Then I got myself so obsessed and paranoid about the weather (while reading warnings about frostbite and hypothermia and death) that I started over-worrying/over-imagining what if I went outside to bring my trash back in, had a seizure while outside in minus zero temps with -30 wind chill, passed out in the snow, and died.I don't even like snow.Snow is my idea of hell, because it escalates the obsessive anxious bad parts of my brain (what if this happens? what if this happens? what if this happens? what if this happens? what if? what if? what if? what if? what if?).(I've also had some what if? what if? what if? uncomfortable thoughts going on about my health lately, but I don't feel like typing about that.) At least I was able to work some of my obsessively wind chill focused brain waves into some poem lines late last night.I also kept thinking (and still am) about homeless people being outside during these temperatures.I didn't sleep very well last night. I think I had been in bed for about two hours before some odd sound woke me up. It sounded like something was repeatedly rattling and rolling around outside and I was worried it was my trash can, and I couldn't fall back asleep.On at least two different occasions, I got up, put on a coat, hat, and thick gloves, and went outside to open my garage door and check that my trash can was still intact where I had placed it. It was, so I'm not sure what was repeatedly rolling around. Then a few hours later, still barely sleeping, I heard the garbage truck coming by, so I put my hat and coat and gloves on again and moved my emptied trash can into my garage.After that, I was able to sleep a LITTLE better.Shortly after I got up, I looked out my screen door window and saw another empty trash can (not mine) down on the ground in front of the side door of my garage, so then I wasn't sure whether to go outside again and put that one in my garage too or just leave it where it was. I ended up going out and moving it a little farther forward (instead of leaving it right in front of my side door) so that hopefully whoever's can it was might see it there. I probably would have put it in my garage if it had been windy, but it wasn't too windy at that point in time, and hopefully it doesn't get all windy tonight and blow onto the street and cause a car accident, because I don't want to go outside again, and risk having a seizure in the snow.Yes this is how my brain works sometimes, but at least it didn't escalate to the point of panic mode.

The First Myna Birds flock of 2019 has arrived with 15 Myna Birds!

The First Myna Birds flock of 2019 has arrived with 15 Myna Birds!

Creative beaks and wings and things by Eileen Murphy/MISH, Michael A. Griffith, Karen L. George, Dustin Pickering, Valerie Loveland, and John Grey

shiny, pointy party hats - pass through these ghosts - Something fleshy falls on my plate - Our U.S. president is a monster - Every stair I meet, I imagine falling, because I can tell the future - I repeatedly press the stop button - tiptoe toward pale blue - as a magic horse in the wind - The sun rises, vibrates light into inky night - Doubt is the flower that grows in my heart -Is it still a bomb if it clicks instead of ticks?
HERE -  https://13myna.blogspot.com/
orchid funeral by MISH

Temporarily Disconnected with Brain Space Invaders

I had a rather disturbing false awakened lucid dream. Maybe because I took a nap at a weird time (starting a little after 11:00 PM with my alarm set to get up at 12:30 AM - and before lying down, I thought there was a possibility my mom might call be before I got up, because sometimes she does call me in the midnight to 12:45 AM time frame).
I called my mom and she acted like it was an unexpectedly late time for me to be calling her. Then I felt confused because it's not uncommon for her to call me at that time. Then I realized I was still lying down and couldn't even remember the reason why I had called her. Then our phone call got randomly disconnected. Then I suddenly couldn't get my phone to work and could barely see anything on my phone. At first I was worried that my mom would freak out because I wasn't calling her back and wasn't answering if she was trying to call me back. It reminded me of times in the past, shortly before I had a seizure, when I couldn't see any of the fine print on my phone and couldn't seem to remember how to use it, because my brain became temporarily disconnected.

I repeatedly tried to use my phone (trying to call my mom, then trying to call Darryl) with no success, then I realized that part of the issue might be because every room in the house was dark and I couldn't see very well. But then, hardly any light in the house was working. It wasn't a power outage, because the kitchen light was on. But it was on with less than 1/4th the amount of light as usual and then when I started staring at it, I saw that the light fixture was haphazardly dangling from the ceiling and then it crashed down to the ground, shooting shards of glass across the floor, and since there was no light in the kitchen anymore, I had to stay away from there, so that I didn't step on glass. I could barely see my phone and it wasn't working regularly at all and it said SPAM and I thought it had been hacked.

No ceiling light I tried to turn on worked. I walked to the corner of my living room where I have a floor light, but not only was it also not working, but the lamp fixture had been removed. Something that looked like a broken balloon was dangling there. I started to worry that someone had invaded my home, but why and how, because it was full of snow outside. I thought about grabbing a flashlight, but they were in a drawer in my kitchen and I was worried I'd step on glass, but I had to take that risk, because I had no idea what was going on and could barely see. Then I heard someone open the side door of my garage, and thought maybe my parents had come over to check on me, because of my lack of response to their phone calls, they thought I'd had a seizure or maybe it was an invader.

Then I woke up, less than ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off, but during the whole dream, I hadn't even known it was a dream. I had thought I had made a semi-random phone call while still in bed, then had gotten up and been walking around in my own home in the dark, seeing error after error, feeling increasingly disconcerted that either my space had been invaded or something had gone awry with my own brain.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews Me

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews me!
Read my answers to some writing/poetry questions by clicking the link below.
https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2019/01/17/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-juliet-cook/

Tentacular Splatter PRINT (newly added to the Blood Pudding Press shop)

A small (4 x 6 photo-sized) print version of my recently completed painting, collage art, hybrid creature, Tentacular Splatter, has been newly added to the Blood Pudding Press shop.

HERE - https://www.etsy.com/listing/674316373/tentacular-splatter-print-4x6-print-of-a?ref=shop_home_active_3

zoomed in hail storm

NEW in Ex-Spec Po - Four Collaborative poems by j/j hastain & Juliet Cook!

"I made it worse because I screamed
when he shoved the tiny bird into his mouth.
I mean, I'm pro-choice, but that doesn't mean
I'm going to hunt down and collect fetuses
to eat like a martyr holding an overly
ripe lime. The limoncello turned red

and we read the entrails for rewards,
hoping to watch the broken bird wings
rip themselves out of his mouth and take off
into the sky with a line of vultures
carrying him with them."

j/j hastain and I have four collaborative poems appearing in Ex-Spec Po today!

The lines above are from the poem, "Celestial zoo where the lubricants may cause death or new life".

Read more HERE - https://medium.com/the-operating-system/a-collection-of-collaborations-by-juliet-cook-and-jj-hastain-33c486819ea0

A NEW mini-review of the Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, "Cutting Eyes from Ghosts" by Ariana D. Den Bleyker

"A mesmerizing collection! These poems will shake you to your core. Read them at night."The beginning of a new-ish mini-review by Casey Kiser, of the Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, "Cutting Eyes from Ghosts" by Ariana D. Den Bleykerread the entire review here - https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2601435695?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1acquire your very own copy of "Cutting Eyes from Ghosts" from the Blood Pudding Press shop here - https://www.etsy.com/listing/512469489/cutting-eyes-from-ghosts-by-ariana-d-den?ref=shop_home_active_1

Darryl and me shortly after midnight on New Year's Eve night, when 2018 turned into 2019.