Tuesday, 5 November 2013


Bold, Italics, Underline. Pick your emphasis, select your variation. The exception to the rule that proves the rule, right? You will use us sparingly. Uniformity becomes you. Oh, go forth and prosper.

<"I live for the applause, applause, applause">

I try so much to want to be published. I try to distance myself from the cocoon of Blogger, pretend it's not the ideal arrangement; I've already had my poetry published, and I couldn't care less if I published any prose. I'm happy to write what I truly want to, not what someone else expects for me. I'm happy to conform to my own, very radical leanings. The appeal of fame? It's slim pickings. <"Way that you shout and scream at me.">

My American boyfriend always wanted to reach a lot of people. I was always radiant over my sense of obscurity. There's a freedom in being on the extreme margins that gives me a high. To be honest, I don't even put my most radical ideas on Blogger. It would be too risky. I want to, it's tempting, but I'll refrain for now.

A few days ago I submitted a poem for publication to Cordite, an Australian poetry journal, and while it would be very nice for them to publish it, a part of me is just as invested in remaining as obscure as ever. But, to be honest, I feel like, at the age I'm about to turn, I need to start taking being published more seriously. A couple of token achievements to point at come in handy. I don't wish to sully my obscurity though. I want to be thoroughly ignored by the mainstream.

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