Learning to Breathe Underwater
When you open my app
you see my screen
on your screen,
a live feed of my lines
coming into being —
composition as performance.
You see me break
my lines, backspace over words,
replace a semicolon with a comma.
You see my blinking cursor
as I wait for what comes next.
When I switch to Body mode,
you see what I see,
hear what I hear
(we’re working on the scent technology).
Check me out on Wednesday mornings:
I’m usually out on a walk all alone,
writing on my phone —
stuff I’ve been working on during sleep,
paw prints flowering the snow —
whatever pops through
the language membrane.
I’ll go for three or four hours,
similar to a baseball game
(including about the same amount of time
where nothing much is happening).
I’m lining up a roster of
accomplished artists you can watch
at other times: a blower at the glass works,
a band in the recording studio.
You can witness the process in real time,
or watch it later on demand. I also post
edited programs, which you can watch
in less than an hour
(like the baseball game
without the foul balls, etc.).
People ask me how I’m going to monetize it —
I don’t worry about that. I have
an angel investor to figure out
how to make it pay for itself.
It costs me next to nothing
to produce the content —
just my time, which is invaluable,
but there’s nothing
I’d rather be doing
(OK, maybe one thing).
And my angel says
at the end of the day
(she loves to say,
“At the end of the day …”)
my brand is becoming more valuable,
capable of generating larger streams
of future revenue. WAG!
I can’t let all that affect me.
I have a lot of followers
who are counting on me
to ignore them,
to be fully absorbed by my art.
They don’t want me forcing stuff out
just to please them,
giving them a pile
of sand to sift through.
They want the real me,
the person I am
when no one else is around.
They don’t want to watch me
take a deep breath and stay underwater as long as possible,
or strap on some cumbersome
breathing apparatus. They want
to see me learn to breathe down there,
so I never have to come up for air.