Write five short expressions of the most adamant anger; make a work out of them.

My favorites: I’m at the end of my rope, full of hot air, a bone to pick, having a conniption, seeing red, ticked off (as in, “is there a grandfather clock in here? ‘cus something’s really ticking me off),  or just the simple, fuck this.

Advertisements

Upgrade

May 11, 2011

Bernadette Mayer, Day 4
Choose a subject you would like to write "about." 
Then attempt to write a piece that absolutely 
avoids any relationship to that subject. 
Get someone to grade you.

 

BEASTS!

May 8, 2011

Bernadette Mayer, Day 3

Write a bestiary (a poem about real and mythical animals).

For further inspiration: 

Bernadette Mayer, Day 2

Write on a piece of paper where something is already printed or written.

Psst. More Bernadette Mayer experiments here.

I’ve used Bernadette Mayer’s writing experiments a couple of times on this blog so I was overjoyed to discover that Drunken Boat is seeking submissions for a Bernadette Mayer Folio!  Sooo for the rest of the week I’m going to try to do one of her experiments every day. Here we go:

Write what is secret. Then write what is shared. Experiment with writing each in two different ways: veiled language, direct language.  (My own take on this would be to write in opposites. Write what is secret in direct language and write what is public in veiled language. Hence, the picture of a toothbrush being the exact opposite of what it should be.)

Do today’s experiment, do it well, and then submit it to Drunken Boat! More of Bernadette Mayer’s experiments can be found here.

And for further inspiration, this is one of my favorite passages from her book length poem, “Midwinter’s Day”.

“I’ve a wistful desire to stay outside

It’s not really cold,

And roll with the babies in the snow ’til I get older

Maybe we could be outside all the time like sex and lists

Of music to hear to remember to laugh at whatever’s forgotten

Doesn’t have to be gone out again for

Staying in

And sex is memory’s intensity

The year’s least day

Lost in the house of love’s safe locks,

Movements chance perfidy.