Every Eileen Myles book, every Eileen Myles poem, is our informal check-in with the poet herself. Is the dog inside? Who did you think of this afternoon? How is the weather? And on and on and on. All those tiny poems and big books, all those hundreds of tiny parts of a life. And now, we have a highlight reel — one that, when it stands alone, allows us to read those tiny poems and get a small sense of those big books and watch her grow each time she goes through something, whether it’s the first or second or third time she’s survived it.
There’s no rule that states you have to only have one type of toy or one type of sex with one partner, and then totally change it up when you wind up partnering with someone different. If we applied that flawed logic to everything, square dances would become very difficult.
Twitter is fun for me because it is the most concrete example of what my career will be like for the rest of my life: criminally underfollowed, unappreciated, and unrecognized while mediocre straight white men are exalted. You might be saying, “Brittani! Why is that fun?” And to that I say, I am a gender non-conforming black lesbian. If I couldn’t find fun in being the underdog, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning.
