Since I last posted here I have been in a bit of a panic. I've spent the long weekend trying to force myself to produce something. I made the dubious choice of reintroducing caffeine into my life and the bad choice of sating myself with ice-cream, but finally today I have a plan about what to produce.
I've been doing nothing but research since I started. The CEP is about responding to a context, so I need to do that, especially considering it's almost week SEVEN. But glandular fever is still here for the most part, so I'm finding it hard to accumulate enough energy (hence the caffeine) to write. I wrote automatic for a while and that helped, but it was really just a different kind of research.
Today I struck upon the idea (I'm still working with my idea about Antarctica and contexts being transformed by infatuation) of writing sonnets. It works perfectly because Sonnets are so often talking about women by talking about nature¹, nature and the countryside strongly modified by infatuation. (My CEP, and I'm sure plenty of other peoples going on right now, has been heavily tangled up with/by infatuation.) So I'm interested in strained metaphors, sexual frustration, helpless and pathetic desire, desperation, the uncanniness of men's love, vulnerability, love-failure, onesidedness, blindly seeing the person of your desire caught up with everything else. In short: love poetry.²
The Shakespearean sonnet is the obvious choice.
To end, a little bit of prose that fell out of my brain yeseterday, unnerving me a little, and amusing Scarlett:
Ice queen. I lost it at the thought of you, semen all over the ice, frozen instantly, preserved but impotent, like the memory of you in my head.
¹ Hmm.
² Is poetry really a form suitable for expressing or even describing infatuation or love?
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