Um, I love this. It’s the blending of childish language (squishing) with professional language (email format) with philosophical inquiry that does it for me.
For me it resonated with the way motherhood (which came to me a with an eating disorder, and emotional flashbacks to childhood trauma I didn’t know was there) has reduced me to a nothing that holds within itself everything I have ever wanted. It’s hard to express these things in prose! But so nice to see it given words in my inbox this morning.
I am not qualified to say whether or not it's a poem, which is fine with me, because it is the same creation, regardless of what you call it. I like it. I like the word "squish," and I like how you wrote this so that squish is neither good nor bad, pleasant nor unpleasant, except for how it feels to the mind reading it. I have no idea what these words are meant to mean, but I know how they formed in my awareness, and they feel reassuring: the squishing will happen, and that is what life is. It is to be expected. I will ponder on what I want to do with the squishing that has happened to me this week. Right now, I'm fine with resting in my chair, having my heart and soul gently squished by a case of COVID, and a warm, friendly cat.
Definitely a poem and thank you for sharing it with us. I too have recently begun writing poems again and feel like a teenager again because, like you, that’s when I last wrote them unselfconsciously.
As an older 'squishee' who has experienced squishing many times over the years but manage to just keep 'unsquishing' myself - I truly enjoyed visualizing the concepts in your writing which provided various paths and choices to reflect on. You could have called your work 'just a bunch of words' instead of 'maybe not a poem' and it will remain a really good thought producer!
I almost have to wonder if all of the repeated squishing is really just us being kneaded like one would knead clay. It's like the universe, etc is kneading us into a squishy and pliable state in order to more easily mold us into our eventual whole selves.
I’ve been happily following your work for a few weeks or so. Ish. I downloaded Substack an immeasurable amount of time ago... October(?) My sense of time is ordered by the semester’s art projects and I found you while doing a fish vase and working on the scales. Congrats, you share a timeline with a fish vase named Mildred ;)
Anyway, I only today remembered that ah yes this is a small platform on which most people genuinely engage. Whoops. So here I am, and unless you give me the boot, here I’ll stay.
I quite liked your poem. I don’t know why it stuck out to me so vividly but in two different lines you used premise and promise one right after the other and it just tickled me pink.
In my expert opinion (I’m really very bad at poetic and fictional analysis) if you press enter where you grammatically should not be pressing enter, then you automatically create a poem. What is a poem without the mutilation of innocent grammar like the period? Nothing.
Also, a fun fact of very questionable academic veracity: when you see a cute thing and want to just hold it in your hands and squish it, it is actually an instinct related to the competitive advantage of you yourself being the cutest lil thing around. I don’t know that it’s the objective truth, but it’s an odd little story to tell and one that came to mind when I read your poem. It does add an interesting spin to the concept of squishing, no?
I'm coming very late to the party, but I'm just able now to catch up on my email, and I want to concentrate on my Substack emails especially. I loved this. Especially the lines:
Capable of being squished,
and capable of squishing others.
Weild your power carefully,
for it is meaningless
across all of our lifetimes
if you cannot see its meaninglessness
in this one.
I've been thinking a lot lately about power, how we use it and how we receive it, as individuals, families, tribes, nations. And I feel saddened by it's expression and coercion and how it is temporary (like all things in life) and how it can be wielded. Thank you for such a thoughtful piece! 💕
Non-poets writing poetry makes me so happy! I am a fellow non-poet writing poetry. I didn't even do that as a teenager, but man do I write some emo teenager poems now.
My favorite lines are “We already discussed what I mean when I say nothing” and “Let yourself be reduced.” I think this poem will stay with me for a long time.
I needed this poem today. It helps keep me on the right track. Quishiness is everything. One can’t love without being squishy. One can’t live fully without being able to love
I loved it. It was both delightful to read and an exercise in expanding. My logic mind wanted to solve the puzzle, my creative mind was just chuckling and enjoying the ride. I have been squished so much the last few years and I still exist! 💪🏽
I am here for all the squishing both to give and receive and to be reduced into nothing as when I am nothing I can be everything 🤗
Beautiful thought experiment Ana. I feel like you are observing and explaining the absurdist truth here.
Um, I love this. It’s the blending of childish language (squishing) with professional language (email format) with philosophical inquiry that does it for me.
For me it resonated with the way motherhood (which came to me a with an eating disorder, and emotional flashbacks to childhood trauma I didn’t know was there) has reduced me to a nothing that holds within itself everything I have ever wanted. It’s hard to express these things in prose! But so nice to see it given words in my inbox this morning.
"You have already been squished to nothing a thousand times!
And you are still here, existing!"
😀💪🫶
I am not qualified to say whether or not it's a poem, which is fine with me, because it is the same creation, regardless of what you call it. I like it. I like the word "squish," and I like how you wrote this so that squish is neither good nor bad, pleasant nor unpleasant, except for how it feels to the mind reading it. I have no idea what these words are meant to mean, but I know how they formed in my awareness, and they feel reassuring: the squishing will happen, and that is what life is. It is to be expected. I will ponder on what I want to do with the squishing that has happened to me this week. Right now, I'm fine with resting in my chair, having my heart and soul gently squished by a case of COVID, and a warm, friendly cat.
Definitely a poem and thank you for sharing it with us. I too have recently begun writing poems again and feel like a teenager again because, like you, that’s when I last wrote them unselfconsciously.
As an older 'squishee' who has experienced squishing many times over the years but manage to just keep 'unsquishing' myself - I truly enjoyed visualizing the concepts in your writing which provided various paths and choices to reflect on. You could have called your work 'just a bunch of words' instead of 'maybe not a poem' and it will remain a really good thought producer!
I almost have to wonder if all of the repeated squishing is really just us being kneaded like one would knead clay. It's like the universe, etc is kneading us into a squishy and pliable state in order to more easily mold us into our eventual whole selves.
Your description of karma resonates as I lay here in bed squishing my colourful cuddly squishy I received as a gift recently 🙏🏻
I’ve been happily following your work for a few weeks or so. Ish. I downloaded Substack an immeasurable amount of time ago... October(?) My sense of time is ordered by the semester’s art projects and I found you while doing a fish vase and working on the scales. Congrats, you share a timeline with a fish vase named Mildred ;)
Anyway, I only today remembered that ah yes this is a small platform on which most people genuinely engage. Whoops. So here I am, and unless you give me the boot, here I’ll stay.
I quite liked your poem. I don’t know why it stuck out to me so vividly but in two different lines you used premise and promise one right after the other and it just tickled me pink.
In my expert opinion (I’m really very bad at poetic and fictional analysis) if you press enter where you grammatically should not be pressing enter, then you automatically create a poem. What is a poem without the mutilation of innocent grammar like the period? Nothing.
Also, a fun fact of very questionable academic veracity: when you see a cute thing and want to just hold it in your hands and squish it, it is actually an instinct related to the competitive advantage of you yourself being the cutest lil thing around. I don’t know that it’s the objective truth, but it’s an odd little story to tell and one that came to mind when I read your poem. It does add an interesting spin to the concept of squishing, no?
I'm coming very late to the party, but I'm just able now to catch up on my email, and I want to concentrate on my Substack emails especially. I loved this. Especially the lines:
Capable of being squished,
and capable of squishing others.
Weild your power carefully,
for it is meaningless
across all of our lifetimes
if you cannot see its meaninglessness
in this one.
I've been thinking a lot lately about power, how we use it and how we receive it, as individuals, families, tribes, nations. And I feel saddened by it's expression and coercion and how it is temporary (like all things in life) and how it can be wielded. Thank you for such a thoughtful piece! 💕
Non-poets writing poetry makes me so happy! I am a fellow non-poet writing poetry. I didn't even do that as a teenager, but man do I write some emo teenager poems now.
KEEP WRITING POETRY! Seriously. I love this.
My favorite lines are “We already discussed what I mean when I say nothing” and “Let yourself be reduced.” I think this poem will stay with me for a long time.
I needed this poem today. It helps keep me on the right track. Quishiness is everything. One can’t love without being squishy. One can’t live fully without being able to love
I loved it. It was both delightful to read and an exercise in expanding. My logic mind wanted to solve the puzzle, my creative mind was just chuckling and enjoying the ride. I have been squished so much the last few years and I still exist! 💪🏽
I love this poem so much! It’s like your boss universe called your office to tell you it needs the TPS report this weekend 🥰
“You are ripe for more squishings,
and I am ripe for squishing you more and more
into nothing”