The Rumpus Poetry Book Club Chat with Kevin Simmonds
Kevin Simmonds discusses his new collection, THE MONSTER I AM TODAY.
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Join NOW!Kevin Simmonds discusses his new collection, THE MONSTER I AM TODAY.
...moreI wasn’t pressured to be stoic. I was permitted to release. I was permitted to be.
...moreFor me, performance is a conversation with the sacred and timeless, the sublime.
...moreThere are many ways to be ripped to shreds.
...moreIt’s the atmosphere. The temperature. What lies between thee and me.
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...moreA Rumpus series of work by women and non-binary writers that engages with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.
...moreThis is a deep dive, therefore, into the site of brilliant, uncompromising contemporary work.
...moreAbout a year ago, I ended up returning to the land where I grew up and building a house here.
...moreI hear a man singing for his life, desperate in a way he would never be again and had never been before.
...moreTorch songs, i.e. “sentimental love songs, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited love,” were once the flagship of every respected crooner: with sultry lonesomeness, a smooth voice would dance above the elegant orchestra accompaniment, singing of lovers lost or unreciprocated romance. Fitting comfortably in the gap between Angel Olsen and Lana Del Rey, […]
...moreIt just felt so comfortable to slide back into singing, “She Loves You,” and know for that moment, everything was the same.
...moreFrozen is a study in what happens when imagination is constrained to a single narrative arc
...moreHe knew what he was doing when he looked at me and said, “Sing for me.” Had I been nude in his bed I would not have been as naked as I was then, stripped down to my brand new skin.
...moreThe gulf between the place where I sang Mozart and Debussy with people my parents’ age and the place where I went to public school and tried to make friends with kids my own was vast.
...moreThere is nothing I have experienced that is so physical, nothing that resonates in the bones and meat of a person like it does to make music with other people at that sort of level.
...moreIt is not a coincidence that among the synonyms for “practice” is “ritual,” and for “ritual,” “practice.” When you do a thing over and over—even if it is only so banal and small as lighting a cigarette—it will assume a shape and a meaning, a weight and a force.
...moreIt would be easy and satisfying to say that I stopped singing because of the crack in my throat. It would be false. It’s true enough that there was one. There was a fight with a lover that turned ugly, a forearm pressed hard across my throat
...moreMy face burned with rage, with shame, with humiliation. I was failing openly, blatantly, at the one thing I still somehow, in the back of my mind, expected to be perfectly capable of doing after more than a decade’s silence.
...moreWhen I shut my mouth I lost a part of myself so ingrained, so accustomed, so integral I had not even known it was possible to lose it.
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