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Mind Over Matter

@asongofmyself / asongofmyself.tumblr.com

Feet, why do I need them when I have wings to fly?
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Of my conception I know only what you know of yours. It occurred in the darkness and I was unconsenting. I (and that slenderest word is too gross for the rare thing I was then) walked forever through reachless oblivion, in the mood of one smelling night-blooming flowers, and suddenly—My ravishers left their traces in me, male and female, and over the months I rounded, grew heavy, until the scandal could no longer be concealed and oblivion expelled me. But this I have in common with all my kind. By some bleak alchemy what had been mere unbeing becomes death when life is mingled with it. So, they seal the door against our returning.

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

#quote#marilynne robinson#housekeeping#literature#birth#death#life
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pervocracy
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howdoyoutmblr

Dissertation Research: Tumblr, Language, & Political-Ethical Practice

Hi Tumblr!

I’m a graduate student in linguistic anthropology conducting doctoral dissertation research – the focus of which is the different ways people use language on specific social media platforms and how that relates (or not) to political and ethical stances and practices.

I’ve created a questionnaire that asks about political-ethical stances, Tumblr, and language and I would absolutely love to get as many responses as possible.

Therefore, if you are at all interested, I would be delighted if people would click through the link below and take my questionnaire :D If you can’t or aren’t interested in taking the questionnaire right now, but would be willing to reblog this post or share the link with any friends who use Tumblr, that would also be much appreciated!

Click here to access the questionnaire on Tumblr, Language, & Political-Ethical Practice!

**For those of you who took my preliminary survey last year, this is a more fleshed out version with some additional and restructured questions. I would be delighted if you completed this one as well. However, if the idea of doing another survey sounds just the worst (which, fair enough lol), but you do still want to participate in my research, simply follow the link and choose the third option on the introductory page. That will send you to the final page where there is a list of other ways to participate in this project and you can check off those in which you might be interested.

Have any questions?

More details can be found on the questionnaire itself and on my FAQ page. You are also welcome to email me (howdoyoutmblr at gmail dot com) or send me an ask/message on my blog.

THANK YOU <333 I am so grateful for any responses that I get and so excited to hear all of your thoughts about this topic!

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Subway Eye Contact

I stare at you slightly longer than I should and notice

how your hair falls above your shoulder on

one side and flows far below on the other. you

look up, we lock eyes for a moment too long to

be a meet-cute and a moment too short to

worry about being murdered. Now I'm slightly

on edge, and this train is tilting so that I lose my

balance and fly into the pole, ram my hand against

its cold and hit your chest with my fingers. I stutter

what should be an apology with the little voice

I have left, move my hands higher and look back at

you. our eyes never meet again.

#april 10#napowrimo#subway eye contact#poetry#national poetry month#my poetry#nyc
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The man, not the monster

the burn on my skin looks like

a pink patch sown down

with a slightly lighter pink thread

that criss crosses in a stich I never

learned because I never bothered

to try hard enough. (I was taught though:

I found that the white threads

are the thinnest. I could never

get them through the hook.)

it fades a little bit each day, the raised

mark becomes smooth.

soon it will be an

undistinguishable imprint on

a body of imprints pieced together

through a thin outer layer of memory.

quick reactions, fight or flight, are

what keeps us alive.

yet how many times did I have to learn

not to touch the stove when hot?

or the oven. this time it was the oven.

#april 9#napowrimo#poetry#my poetry#frankenstein#burn#skin#identity
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Tourists

on the weekdays they

ask which way is

Times Square while they

block the entrance to

my 42nd st subway. on

the weekends they

are swarming the Great

Lawn or enjoying

their carriage ride slower

than I can run.

if I ever need

a side job I will be

one of those bikers

who pedal so slowly,

earning one dollar

per minute while

hearing where they

come from, pointing

out every fountain

and bridge in the park.

#april 7#napowrimo#poetry#my poetry#nyc#tourists#travel#new york#city#nyc poets#central park#times square
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At the Dinner Table

Lies are easy. They form in

the space between my teeth where

the mango threads stick and mix

with the red pepper flakes sprinkled

on my tongue. I breathe such a sweet

fire, I doubt anyone else can see the

orange flames, while I feel heat

that blows back down my throat

and lingers for far too long.

#april 6#napowrimo#national poetry month#lies#my poetry#poetry#ed
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Why is my heart beating so fast?

I worry my stomach will eat itself,

swelling to swallow

when I'm too hungry to consume.

They call this feeling The Pit and

indeed it seems I have swallowed a core,

tightening my own and standing

straight upright, the familiar dizzying

emptiness that makes me think I'm starving

I worry my stomach will drown itself,

overtaken by thirst

if I ever drink much too much.

I'd call this feeling floating if

I wasn't so clearly cemented on the ground,

much too human to be light, my

mind acheing from the uncomfortable

fullness that makes me know I'm dying

#april 5#napowrimo#national poetry month#poetry#my poetry#ed#eating disorder#anorexia#ednos#body image#body dysmorphia#anxiety
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THIS FONT FEELS LIKE SHOUTING

the train moves the same way 

as an earthquake,

bodies lurching with reluctance 

and clinging to dear life

my eyes peel away from your face

long enough to look up

and see the smoke billowing from 

a picture of a cigarette

the ads, in their branding, scream

in sans and bellow in serif,

THIS FONT FEELS LIKE SHOUTING

and it does what it wants 

this row yells FIRE in a theatre

two cars down swims in the sea

saving your neighbor from overdose

is what it means to be brave

crowds of people, caring

for one another in helvetica and ariel, 

telling poems and stories

of mountains that explode

but the font doesn't 

make me feel not alone

letters rushed, crowding together

is the way we all get buried 

#april 3#napowrimo#national poetry month#poetry#my poetry#font#fonts#nyc
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