This week’s writing is brought to you by a woman I hated when we first met. She was opinionated and confident and I couldn’t keep up with her jokes. Literally, she had jokes on jokes. But, it’s funny how time and alcohol can change the vibe. It wasn’t long until I realized that this writer was incredibly talented and that she would inspire my own writing for years to come.
These poems – which I hesitate to call poems, as they are more like tiny, perfect, poetic thought bubbles – are raw and are full of what my mother would say “give pause.” They make you chuckle and then you question What The Fuck Is Wrong With Me for laughing at the absurdity of finding a “good place for a panic attack.” They make you feel confident and you form an alliance with the writer as you recall how difficult it can be to assume the role of human in the world, especially if you are different from the flood of traffic barreling its way toward you on Broadway. Here, even cardboard has confidence and identity is a composite of the self, the mirrored reflection of the self to the self, and the shell of self that only others see. Additionally, the tiny-perfect-poetic-thought-bubbles are accompanied by original artwork by the author. The companion images are intriguing on their own and they emote a sense of identity with their layers of color, pattern, and collage.
I’m so thrilled to be in charge of this thing and to have the power to post weird poem art and especially her writing, I do hope you enjoy. But, if any of that doesn’t make sense, email me for clarity.
I’ll see ya’ll next week with more words to help you make it through. I know I need ’em.
Christina Shideler is a writer living in New York. You can find more of her work at christinashideler.com.