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Apr 14 2013

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The Process

I consider myself a writer, but when someone asks me if I’ve written anything, I can’t give them a straight answer. I say “kind of” or “I’m working on something right now” and then go into explaining a project or making something up on the spot. The truth is I’m writing all the time in my head, in my life, and with my life. I see the narrative every day; the irony, the suspense, the folly, the heartbreak, the joy, the triumph, and sometimes even the foreshadow. Writing isn’t about how you can put words on paper, but how you take in and interpret the world so that others, and you yourself, can see it in a new way… so I’m writing every day, but what do I get for it? I don’t get paid for it. I feel like I work so much, but so little makes it on to paper, and the stuff that does isn’t even near my best work, isn’t close to what I see every day. It’s like the thrill and challenge of writing is discovering the story as it happens, whether that be in your life or fictionalized in your head. Once I’ve discovered the story I feel as though there’s nothing left to gain or learn from simply by transcribing that discovery on to paper. Obviously that is false, and others can learn from the same discovery of the story, but I’m just saying that’s how it feels to me. Now I’m trying to figure out if that means I’m just a selfish person if I don’t trudge through the monotonous work of writing things down. Other functioning members of society work the same routine and weekday schedule most of their lives just to get by, but for some reason I can’t sit down for an afternoon an focus enough to write out a story. Do I somehow, deep down, think that writing is superior to other occupations? Is that why I’m like this? Or do I, deep down, think that the world is going to end and I’m going to die and the sun will turn into a black hole and all of human history will be lost, so ‘why should I even bother writing a little story?’ I may never figure out why I do the things I do, or why I write all the time, yet still have written nothing; but at least I still have the ability to write, and hopefully one day, trudging through all these roaming thoughts I can find a reason for all this writing—a narrative… a discovery…

Tagged art, author, blurb, discovery, fail, finding, foil, folly, foreshadow, happy, history, irony, joy, life, narrative, process, purpose, question, superior, suspense, The, work, writer, writing, yourself

Apr 10 2013

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Mona Lisa

The Mona Lisa is really beyond art at this point. It’s kind of turned into a monster, or rather, turned the common viewer of art into a monster. You can’t even see the Mona Lisa anymore because it’s behind so much glass, and you can’t even take a picture of it because they’ve put some sort of anti-picture technology in the glass… that is to say if you can even get a decent view of it and manage to hold the camera still amongst all the elbows that are bumping into your elbows. There is a huge crowd around the Mona Lisa fighting their way to look at her that she has to be put behind bars in order to be kept safe. That isn’t art. She can’t even be seen anymore. How is that art? Or at least, now she isn’t even being used for her intended purpose, or being seen in the same way the artist imagined. Other painting in the Louvre you can just go up to and even touch if no one is looking, but the Mona Lisa is trapped; with an armed guard even! Now she’s a freak show–some sort of sick performance piece. People don’t want to take the time to appreciate her anymore, they just want to get a glimpse of her just to say they have.

Tagged art, bastardized, blurb, cage, cheap, circus, crowd, da Vinci, entertainment, fighting, france, freak, glass, happening, leonardo, lisa, Louvre, mona, monster, performance, piece, prison, show, trapped, writing

Apr 07 2013

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Creepy

There was some group that showed up in my facebook newsfeed called “I’m not creepy, I just have a really good memory.” Thinking about it for a minute, how can you say you’re not creepy? I know on occasion I have pointed out details to people from years in the past, and people find it kind of creepy that I can remember such randomly specific details. To me it’s not creepy, but to others it might be. But one thing I can’t do is tell that person that it’s not creepy; then I’d just be asking them to lie to themselves. I can’t tell someone that reciting 100 digits of pi makes me smart, I can’t tell someone that my jokes are funny, and I can’t tell someone that giving them flowers is romantic. You do what you do, but you can’t tell other people what you do; it’s up to them to see it, and it’s up to you to show them.

Tagged art, bad, beautiful, blurb, creepy, facebook, funny, good, impression, memory, not, perception, point of view, POV, remember, romantic, show, smart, tell, think, writing

Apr 03 2013

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Playground

Highway

As I was driving down the interstate somewhere between the bay and Sacramento, an attractive young girl passed me on the right, but slowed down and stayed even with me. I looked over and she was looking back and giggling to herself. I may have raised an eyebrow or two, but couldn’t figure what the fuss was about. She seemed so blissfully lost in the moment of taking her red coupe across the state… Why do attractive girls always drive fast red cars?

I swerved a little and figured I should pay attention to the road more than I was, but I couldn’t help but keep looking back over at her. There’s something so captivating when you make contact with someone on the highway. You’re both zooming by at deathly speeds, yet you stop and take the time to look each other in the eye. There’s no pressure, no expectations, and no formalities. You’re not ‘supposed’ to meet people on the highway. You probably won’t ever see them again. It’s like seeing a person stripped down without all the defenses they wear or disguises they put up in order to function in society. If you don’t see anything worth looking at, you look away and move on, or conversely, you keep looking to see what will happen in this short amount of time.

She pressed a napkin against the window and wrote on it, holding the pen cap in her teeth, and then turned it around. It was a phone number, and from the look on her face, it was hers. I checked my rear view so I didn’t get pulled over for texting, but there was no one around. I typed the number down and gave her a thumbs up. She winked and then sped off.

I never did see her again. I pulled over at the next rest stop thinking she might be there. I called the number. “We’re sorry. This number cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up, or–” I must have typed it down wrong. There’s no spellcheck for phone numbers. I waited at the rest stop for quite some time looking back in the direction I came. I don’t know why. Maybe I was waiting for her to pull in to the rest stop, but the truth was she was zooming down the highway. Our encounter was so brief that I didn’t know what to make of it until it was gone, so I got back in my car and decided I have a lot of road ahead of me; and a lot of driving left to do.

Tagged adventure, alicia, attractive, boy, car, dating, discovery, divorce, drive, expectations, fiction, fleeting, future, girl, highway, interstate, keys, life, lonely like a highway, love, lyrics, marriage, metaphor, one, one in a million, passing on the right, past, perfect, pressure, road, rules, sex, short, society, story, The, thinking, this girl is on fire, waiting, writing

Apr 02 2013

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To Know

The moment.
The moment of clarity.
The severity,
a rarity
that stings
and rings
with things
you can’t describe,
but only feel
and know
—you just know—
what will happen,
and that you can’t
stop it
no matter how hard you try.
For better or for worse,
you lie to yourself
and say
I see the light;
another way.
I will fight!

Yet, you know.
You just know
that you’re only distracting yourself,
and falling back
into the very same moment
of clarity
which trapped you before,
and you know,
you just know
that you’ve been here before—
you’ve seen it,
you’ve felt it,
and now it is here
and is all you can see,
and you know,
you just know
it is all that can be,
and you slip

—Oh, you slip—
and you fall
to your knees
and say, If only
that moment of clarity…
hadn’t shown itself,
hadn’t spoken to me,
hadn’t consumed
then until now
in the wink of an eye,
so that months of inaction
have rolled on by
with nothing
more than the words
“Why couldn’t I…”

But you knew.
You just knew
when your future
appeared
that it would hold you,
entrance you
with its mysterious face,
so you watched
and you listened,
running in place,
when all it would take
to avoid that path
is to speak out
and say “No,
this can’t pass!
That isn’t my fate!”

…but you couldn’t,
you wouldn’t
want to leave it to chance;
take a risk
give her a kiss,
when at that moment’s glance
you cannot be together,
but she’s still in your life,
and to you that’s still better
than ‘maybe’ or ‘might,’
and you want nothing more
than to cherish that moment,
to keep what you can,
to hold onto the light;
even if only
a flash in the pan.

When the future finds you
and you don’t agree,
it takes all that you have
to let go of that moment,
and what used to be,
and accept the tears of its clarity.

Tagged advice, boy, clarity, dark, dating, destiny, distracted, fate, friend, friend-zone, future, girl, just ask her, just do it already, know, life stuff, life's tough, light, love, moment, nervous, poem, pome, relationship, reward, risk, seeing, shy, trapped, triangle, unclaimed, writing

Mar 31 2013

4 Comments

Playground

“Marriage is when one person has problems meets another person who has problems and they start having problems together.”

Tagged equal, everyone, gay, help, life, marriage, over-simplify, problems, quote, really?, rights, struggle, together, writing

Mar 25 2013

2 Comments

Playground

Financé

I had friend with my lunch the other day and he asked me for financial advice, like what stocks are good to invest in and what’s the best sort of loan to get for this situation and that. I gave him the best advice I could, but remembered that I’m poor, and reminded him that if I were in his position, I wouldn’t take financial advice from me. I don’t even have finances. I don’t even have a financé.

Tagged advice, blurb, counseling, DOW, exchange, fanny, fiance, finance, freddie, friend, honesty, hypocrite, invest, loan, lunch, mac, market, may, money, moneyboo-boo child, moneymoneyblahblah, mortgage, poor, portfolio, rich, seeking, stock, street, wall, wealth, writing

Mar 21 2013

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Playground

Age

What is age, but a number? Just something someone tells you to keep track of? If nobody told you your age, you’d have no idea how old you are. Age is hearsay. Age is a number, not an excuse, in just the same way that “I’m busy” is a valid excuse for being lazy. Age is not a competition. Aging is like managing your weight while on vacation; some do it better than others. Some obsess about it, some forget about it, and some don’t notice it until there’s no going back. Age is a number that can only be counted up, not counted down. You can act your age, or act someone else’s age. Age is a state of mind. Age is a reason to celebrate. Age is a reason to never wait. Age is something we share, can relate, and learn to live with day by day.

Tagged age, birthday, blurb, calendar, destiny, fate, grow, happy, harhar fiddle dee-dee you are a pirate, number, old, thoughts, vacation, weight, young

Mar 17 2013

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Playground

“Art is not about how good you can draw; it’s about interpretation.”

Tagged art, beholder, color, draw, eye, good, interpretation, paint, photography, quote, unique, writing

Mar 14 2013

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Playground

Hey, you wanna go weave some baskets tomorrow?

You know what? Yeah, I do. Now that I’ve cleared my schedule a bit I should be free.

Do I need to get my ears checked, or did you actually say yes to something?

I’m learning not to put too many things on my plate.

Life is a buffet… and I’m hungry.

Then you should put more on your plate.

No; I’m actually hungry. Like, separate from any analogous implications.

You should eat something.

I can always count on you for good ideas.

So where are we going to do some basket weaving?

I honestly didn’t think that far. I thought you’d say no, so I just said something random.

Oh.

So what do you want to do?

Try basket weaving.

I don’t even know how to weave a basket; let’s do something else.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. When we’re done you’ll have a basket, instead of video games or something where all you have is gained weight from eating Cheetos.

But it’s basket weaving. It’s boring, and they have holes. I’d rather just buy a bowl or something.

Don’t you want to be able to say you made it though?

Since when was that ever cool? From what I’ve learned, it’s much better to have people make things for you.

You need to try new things, it’d be good to broaden your horizon.

Eh. My horizon’s pretty broad, I just don’t take panoramas.

I think your camera’s broken.

Tagged analogy, basket, boring, bowl, broaden, broken, buffet, buy, camera, cheetos, dialogue, exciting, food, horizon, life, new, panorama, random, video games, weaving, writing

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