1/29/11

Viral Spiral

NEW Listenlight is now live, with poetry by me, Paul Siegell, Penn Kemp, Sarah Birl, & more: http://www.listenlight.net/.

Viral Spiral is my new-est poem doodad.

1/22/11

Me in Front of a Mausoleum

Me in front of a Mausoleum


What do you think is underneath?


"Wisteria drooping itself lovely above a rim of secrets." Ali Lawrence

***

Me in front of a Monument


T & Me


"Like a gigantic gong
undergoing constant pulsations" Izzy Onereic

1/13/11

Planchette Haunting by Margaret Bashaar

My darkly delicious poet-friend Margaret Bashaar has created wondrous mini-reviews of quite a few of my poetry chapbooks and today she has just posted a new one - a mini-review of my 'Planchette'. Her succulent, shimmering, haunted review is copied below:

"Planchette by Juliet Cook (Blood Pudding Press, 2008) - anyone who has read previous mini reviews by me knows that I love Juliet's poetry, and of course Planchette was no exception. Perhaps my reviews of Juliet's work should simply read "It was Juliet Cook. What do you think?". But no, I will be more descriptive than that. In this collection, I was particularly impressed with how well each poem fit together with the others. The entire collection was pale and haunted. There were hauntings of the body, hauntings of food, hauntings of dolls, hauntings of furniture, hauntings of spiders, and yes, hauntings of homes. I enjoyed how poems would reference one another, yet not be dependent upon one another in order to be understood and appreciated. I felt as though I was being lead through a tour of quiet madness by someone who, themself, was quite mad. As is always a strength in Juliet's writing, there is beauty in the grotesque of Planchette, and, I feel, a strong feminist undertone to her writing about women made pale with blood made thin and fingertips snipped off (though Juliet herself has told me she's been called everything from a radical feminist to an anti-feminist by those who have read her poetry). You can purchase a copy of Planchette at the Blood Pudding Press etsy store, as linked above, and I highly recommend it."

You may also visit Marg's Plucked From Ogygia blog to partake of more, here:

http://pluckedfromogygia.blogspot.com/

You may also visit my Blood Pudding Press etsy shop to see & read more about Planchette (and other chapbooks and artsy/crafty doodads), here:

http://www.etsy.com/listing/61369901/planchette-by-juliet-cook

You may also visit Marg's NEW etsy shop, currently offering stunning snippets of hand-made jewelry, here (I love the Turquoise and Shell Necklace):

http://www.etsy.com/shop/myhyacinthgirl?ref=pr_shop_more

AND speaking of Blood Pudding Press, I am currently at work on my Blood Pudding Press for Dusie Kollektiv 5 NEW poetry chapbook of mine called "Post-Stroke", so stay tuned.

AND after that chapbook is created (hopefully in February), then Blood Pudding Press will get to work on its NEXT poetry chapbook, "LETTERS FROM ROOM 27 OF THE GRAND MIDWAY HOTEL", by Margaret Bashaar.

What could be more wonderfully haunting!?!

1/12/11

On a Lighter Note (Fun Socks!)...

On a lighter, funner, more scrumptious note than my last post here about my Stroke last year and my Divorce on the same date this year, I have now created a new little Associated Content piece featuring 15 yummie photos of my Socks. Yay!

As some of my friends and family know, I am indeed a big fan of unique, lovely, sexy, and comfy knee high and thigh high socks. Ooh la la, do I adore them! After a very challenging year for me, it was especially delicious to receive an exciting plethora of unique socks this Christmas (and before and after). You can read about my challenging year by scrolling down to my blog entry below this one and/or you may simply partake of my socks.

I'll admit that Ive been told before I'm too old to be wearing fun socks, but I strongly disagree! I think people should surely feel free to wear what they wish to wear and hold on to their own style until they're 80 or 90 or 100 if they're lucky enough to live that long. So there.

And so below is a link to 15 Sock photos.

(P.S. When I first tried to link to this on my facebook page, I got a note that it contained content that was either 'abusive' or' 'scammy'. Well I know it isn't scammy 'cuz I created it. And since when are sock photos considered abusive? They're not nude sock photos. Does the word 'thigh high' sound abusive or some other word I used? I don't think so, but maybe I don't know. I suddenly started feeling a tidbit worried... Anyway, see for yourself below.)

http://www.associatedcontent.com/slideshow/73584/fun_knee_high_and_thigh_high_sock_extravaganza.html

1/5/11

On January 6 2010, I suffered from a Stroke. On January 6 2011, my husband & I will be getting Divorced.

Below is a link to my published article that starts with a version of "A Round Thing That Starts with a g" piece posted here a few days ago, but includes more.

A Year that Started with the Wrong Kind of Bang Has Ended; What Comes Next?

Poetry? Passion? I hope so

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/6187208/a_round_thing_that_starts_with_the.html?cat=5

***

Just in case you do not like the style of Associated Content, I shall also add the entire article below.

A Round Thing that Starts With the Wrong Letter

A year that started with the wrong kind of bang has ended; what comes next?

(On January 6 2010, I suffered from a Stroke. On January 6 2011, my husband & I will be getting Divorced.)

I few days ago, I had a little after-dinner issue that made me feel like crying. Such feelings are nothing new throughout a year that began with me suffering from an unexpected Stroke, but I have been continually recovering and improving, to the point that I think most people who briefly interact with me might not even receive an inkling that anything has affected my brain powers at all. A big part of me really likes that, but it also has its challenging aspects.

Although my reading and writing skills continue to improve, they are still significantly slower than they used to me. Although every month I seem to remember details better, I still do not think I could work a regular job, because after I initially came across as pretty intelligent and productive, how could I explain my inability to memorize new things with quickness, efficiency, or finesse?

And how the heck would I explain my trouble associated with handling easy little words? Food stuff is one example of my easy little word problems. My ongoing issue with food stuff words is what made me feel like crying the other night. Even my poetry used to be brimming with strange and specific food-oriented words, to the extent that a few people thought I had made up my last name, COOK, to fit into my own poetry-fest.

A few nights ago after dinner, my mom handed me a yummy piece of homemade gingerbread (I had to concentrate while typing this to get the word gingerbread) and she put something on it; some white stuff that I cannot remember the word of. I asked her what that white stuff was called and she told me, but I have already forgotten the word again. When she told me the word, I started to tell her what it reminded me of, which was another white thing atop another dessert thing and...

See what I mean? I couldn't think of the word of a dessert product that I have partaken of many times in my life. And I couldn't think of the word of the white stuff on top of that dessert product. Oftentimes, I can think of the first letter of a word even if I can’t think of the whole word. So I said something like "that round thing that starts with a g" and then I began to feel like some sort of an idiot. I was seated at the kitchen table with a group full of people and the best descriptive phrase I could muster was “that round thing that starts with a g".

As it turned out, I didn't even get the first letter right this time. As I tried to describe the dessert product a little better, my mom finally asked if I was talking about Cinnamon Rolls and YES that is what I was talking about. The main reason I had even brought up Cinnamon Rolls was due to an attempt to talk about the white stuff that sometimes appears on top of them, but it took me so long to make it to the word Cinnamon Roll, that after that, I felt overly stressed out and dumb and pretty much just gave up.

I was among a group of people and could not even manage to describe something as well as their little kids would have been able to describe it. I felt like they most likely wanted to play with the kids, rather than spend half an hour trying to concentrate on a disabled adult attempting to figure out easy little words in order to say what I was trying to say, when what I was trying to say was simply a very small description of a white dessert product atop my mom's gingerbread that tasted like a different white dessert product atop some Cinnamon Rolls. I could hardly think of any of the words for a small description that should have lasted about one minute long.

Unfortunately, that is nothing new when I am trying to talk about food (or names or other brief descriptive words), so sometimes I just don’t even try to talk about those things, especially in the midst of group settings as opposed to one on one. Sometimes I find myself worrying about not being able to think of some easy little word in a public setting (which has happened before) and then how the heck should I explain that? I don’t wish to be frequently telling semi-random people who I barely know that I suffered from a Stroke almost a year ago.

It is very frustrating and upsetting to me sometimes, being someone who used to be able to describe things interestingly, uniquely, and EASILY and now I often can't. In addition to the little words, there's the fact that I can't write significant book reviews anymore; I can no longer specifically describe my own viewpoints on stuff like poetry, art, feminism, and much more (and since I would have to concentrate long and hard in order to think of more specific words, I just typed 'and much more').

Overall, I have been feeling less depressed, less negative, and more willing to shift my own style of verbiage around. But every once in a while, an exchange that ought to consist of a simple, easy, quick little description goes awfully wrong and very much bothers me. Sometimes I worry that I am NEVER going to be able to communicate as well as I used to. Sometimes that really makes me feel like breaking down and crying.

***

Several other things have also made me feel like crying lately; one of them is my upcoming Divorce. I recently realized that my Divorce Court Hearing is scheduled to happen on the same date that my Stroke happened last year. I did not choose either of those dates.

My husband could hardly handle my Stroke for even a few months, even though he was not the one who lost part of his brain. He suggested that my personality had changed, but I think the only parts that really changed about me where my problems with maneuvering easy little words, my unfortunate inability to work a regular job, plus the fact that I stopped drinking alcohol as often as I used to. I guess it could be tough when a partner who often was a fun party animal was suddenly overly worried about her own health. I was worried for valid reasons, though. Nobody knew exactly what caused my Stroke and I did not wish to risk my recovery. I understand that the whole situation caused difficult, challenging aspects for my husband too; but I don’t really understand why he often acted as if it was just as difficult for him (or even more so) as it was for me. He told me that others were paying too much attention to me and treating me like a baby. He blurted out the word Divorce and offered me unhappy threats until I went ahead and left our home together and then finally filed for that Divorce.

Now that the Divorce date has almost arrived, he has told me he did not want it, but if that is really the case, than I don’t understand why he was blurting out that word and telling me he needed to move on. He is now filing for Bankruptcy, planning on leaving the state, and leaving me with our unpaid Mortgage and Home Equity Loans. He recently sent me a small Happy New Year note, suggesting that this past year was terrible for both of us, but 2011 would be better for both of us. In a way, that almost made me feel like screaming, “Your brain is the same as it’s always been! And soon, you will be gone from the state and our unpaid bills will all be in my name! So I guess 2011 will be better for YOU!”

In the course of one year, I lost parts of my brain, my husband, and am now in the process of losing my good credit. Even though I have never in my life been a big credit card user, my husband was and now I am forced to suffer the results of that, which will ruin my credit for 7-10 years. In addition to that stress, I sometimes feel quite unhappy that I am a 38 year old woman who is temporarily living with my parents and does not know when that will change; does not know when I will be able to work a regular job again, and more.

I know I am lucky to be alive and to have the power to choose for myself how to best move on with my life, but sometimes I have mixed feelings about HOW to move on and what my life ought to focus on next. Losing the man who I thought was a real love partner makes me feel more uncomfortable about long term relationships in general, yet one on one interaction is quite important to me, especially if that interaction is with someone I feel strongly about and love. I can’t allow myself to lose my credibility, my passion, my interest and adoration in myself and others. I can’t allow myself to lose my sweet snippets of happiness, poeticism and love of truly unique communication.

I need to focus on the fact that some very fun encounters have happened this past year too. I have made a few new wonderful friends who are poets and artists. I have participated in extraordinary poetry readings involving furry Typewriter Girls and movie filming involving Haunted Hotels filled with ghosts and zombies and other darkly delicious creativity.

Even though my reading and writing is still slower, I have maintained my passionate adoration for poetry. I have continued to handle my own online literary publication, Thirteen Myna Birds. I created two new poetry chapbooks for my print publishing endeavor, Blood Pudding Press. I will soon be publishing another Blood Pudding Press chapbook of my own as part of a vast creative entity called the Dusie Kollektiv; that chapbook will include my new Post-Stroke poems. I even assembled and started submitting my second full-length poetry manuscript.

In addition to staying artistically creative and visiting new friends several times, I also visited two long time extra-special close friends of mine, one of whom I have been connecting with a great deal. I do have some delectably scrumptious one on one time available in my present and future, as long as I am able to focus significantly and passionately upon what should come next within my remaining lifetime.

***

Juliet’s very first small article about her Stroke – “Post-Stroke Survival and Sad Little Blues” - http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2807396/poststroke_survival_and_sad_little.html?cat=70

Juliet’s second article about her Stroke and also about her Poetry – “Full Length Dissection” - http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/5602556/full_length_dissection.html?cat=70

Juliet’s third article about her Stroke and Poetry, posted on her own blog & linked to by Big Tent Poetry - “Doll Injection Mold Disaster” – http://bigtentpoetry.org/2010/08/sideshow-finding-the-words/

Juliet’s ‘Horrific Confection” website (find out more about her Poetry and other Creative Endeavors – http://www.julietcook.weebly.com/

1/4/11

Dark Dessert in Progress

"From a fabulous creature to a throw away/
poison-induced creme brulee paraclete..."

1/2/11

Vaticanal/"Amazons of Vaginal Resistance"

Oddly scrumptious writer Letizia Merello has written another peculiarly delicious article about my poetry, yay!

This article appears in an online magazine called Vaticanal and here is the link:

http://vaticanal.blogspot.com/

If interested, you need to download the magazine. Leti's piece appears on page 30.

Just so you know, some of the Vaticanal content happens to be semi-pornographic (in an artsy kind of way), so if you're not into that sort of thing, then you might not wanna click the link.

Also, the magazine's content is in Italian and so is Leti's piece. If you can't read Italian, but are interested in her article, an English version appears below.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen, the curtain rises on the massacre of the dignity of cunt. The last bulwark of resistance to today's aesthetic rules seems to have finally succumbed, my ladies, except for those of you who hide between their thighs something looking like a worn purse or a dressed-leather loafer. Will you, the amazons of vaginal resistance, be able to resist the temptation of flattering rejuvenation surgery?

Vagina d'autore

Le sue rosee labbra smerlate si schiudono, una varietà carnosa
di bocca di leone. Un trattamento insolito ma efficace è
l'uso del batticarne: la rende così deliziosamente insensibile,
è come legare quattro arti fantasma a quattro cavalli e intervenire
chirurgicamente, come l'applauso di un pubblico al lieve tremolìo di quei lobi.

"Cos'è, una gara fra anoressiche a chi mangia più torte?"
L'urlo viene da uno spettatore estremamente partecipe.
"Forza! Dentro!" e alla fine sventrano:
uno che traffica freneticamente in mezzo alle gambe,
l'altro che si dà da fare con la lobotomia.

È ridotta proprio male, ma presto i resti saranno soltanto dolci
petit-four. Carni nauseanti da salassare, quindi isolare.
Una volta ottenuto l'effetto puntura d'ape, quel nido di vespe furioso
dev'essere suturato. Tutto sta nel soddisfare quegli
scarabocchi rosa, quelle piccole ali inadatte al volo.

Designer Vagina

Her pink scalloped lips part, a meatier variety
of snapdragon. A strange but effective treatment
is meat tenderizer. Then she’s so deliciously numb,
it’s like tying phantom limbs to four horses & performing
surgery, as an audience applauds those delicately trembling lobes.

“What is this, a pie eating contest for anorexics?”
shouts one overzealous clapper from the crowd.
“Get in there! Giddyup!” and they tear in--
one furiously working between the legs;
one serving point on the lobotomy.

She’s a real mess, but soon every remnant will be sweet
petit fours. Cloying meat must be leeched, then cloistered.
After the bee-sting effect is achieved, her angry hornet nest
must be sewn shut. It’s all about pleasing
pink squiggles and tiny flightless wings.

Juliet Cook, poet, publisher and author of this poem, is used to rummage in troubled waters with irony and coquetterie, but never afraid to get her hands dirty. Her Designer Vaginas are partly inspired by the latest craze, that is to become highly-fuckable Barbies in all respects. The Designer Vaginas series poems, a poetic squirt in the face of advocates and supporters of this trend, show that, thank Satan, beauty can survive even during a surgical procedure that seeks to kill her with standardization. Would you like more of this? Other creatures, mutilated and caramelized, are shaking their legs and tentacles on
http://julietcook.weebly.com/."

1/1/11

A Round Thing that Starts With the Wrong Letter

(A year that started with the wrong kind of bang has ended; what comes next?)

I few days ago, I had a little after-dinner issue that made me feel like crying. These feelings are nothing new throughout a year that began with me suffering from an unexpected Stroke, but I have been continually recovering and improving, to the point that I think most people who briefly interact with me might not even receive an inkling that anything has affected my brain powers at all. A big part of me really likes that, but it also has its challenging aspects.

Although my reading and writing skills continue to get better and better thank goodness, they are still significantly slower than they used to me. Although every month, I seem to remember details better, I still do not think I could work a regular job, because after I initially came across as pretty intelligent and productive, how could I explain my inability to memorize new things with quickness or efficiency?

And how the heck would I explain my ongoing trouble associated with handling easy little words? Food stuff is one example of those easy little words and my ongoing issue with food stuff words is what made me feel like crying the other night. Even my poetry used to be brimming with strange and specific food-oriented words, to the extent that a few people thought I had made up my last name, COOK, to fit into my own poetry-fest.

A few nights ago after dinner, my mom handed me a yummy piece of homemade gingerbread (I had to concentrate while typing this to get the word gingerbread) and she put something on it; some white stuff that I cannot remember the word of. I asked her what that white stuff was called and she told me, but I have already forgotten that word again. When she told me the word, I started to tell her what it reminded me of, which was another white thing atop another dessert thing and...

See what I mean? I couldn't think of the word of a dessert product that I have partaken of many times in my life. And I couldn't think of the word of the white stuff on top of that dessert product. Oftentimes, I can think of the first letter of a word even if I can’t think of the whole word. So I said something like "that round thing that starts with a g" and then I began to feel like some sort of an idiot, because here I was seated at the kitchen table with a group of people and the best descriptive phrase I could muster was “that round thing that starts with a g".

As it turned out, I didn't even get the first letter right this time. As I tried to describe the dessert product a little better, my mom finally asked if I was talking about Cinnamon Rolls and YES that is what I was talking about. And the main reason I had even brought up Cinnamon Rolls was due to an attempt to talk about the white product that sometimes appears on top of them, but it took me so long to make it to the word Cinnamon Roll, that after that, I felt overly stressed out and dumb and pretty much just gave up.

Here I was among a group of people and could not even manage to describe certain things as well as their little kids would have been able to describe it. I felt like they most likely would rather play with the kids, rather than spend half an hour trying to concentrate on a disabled adult attempting to figure out easy little words in order to say what I was trying to say, when what I was trying to say was simply a very small description of a white dessert product atop my mom's gingerbread that tasted like a different white dessert product atop some Cinnamon Rolls. I could hardly think of any of the words for a small description that should have lasted about one minute long.

Unfortunately, that is nothing new when I am trying to talk about food (or names or other brief descriptions), so sometimes I just don’t even try to talk about those things, especially in the midst of group settings as opposed to one on one. Sometimes I find myself worrying about not being able to think of some easy little word in a public setting (which has happened before) and then how the heck should I explain that? I don’t really feel like telling semi-random people who I barely know that I suffered from a Stroke almost a year ago.

It's so frustrating and upsetting to me sometimes, being someone who used to be able to describe things interestingly, uniquely, and EASILY and now I often can't. In addition to the little words, there's the fact that I can't write significant book reviews anymore; I can no longer specifically describe my own viewpoints on stuff like poetry, art, feminism, and much more (and since I would have to concentrate long and hard in order to think of more specific words, I just typed 'and much more').

Overall, I have been feeling less depressed, less negative, and more willing to interestingly shift my own verbiage around. But every once in a while, an exchange that ought to consist of a simple, easy, quick little conversation goes awfully wrong and really upsets me. Sometimes I worry that I am NEVER going to be able to communicate as well as I used to. Sometimes that makes me feel like crying.

***

(This is a short version of a small article I am currently working on. I hope to complete and publish a slightly longer version on my Associated Content site soon. If you are interested, stay tuned.)