Yielding
So this is how it ends
When the sky turns green and gold
Let this go
Enough already
Just roll over
Show the sun your soft spot
Unflinching
Villages in the grass beside your eyes
Gravity holds them, too
More Than Just Inner Peace
Once upon a time I had a happy marriage
Snide remarks spoke of medical assistance
forming the bridge
My creative side and I, so merry and free
Instant responses
Oh the flow
Direct synaptic connections and understandings
With a pipeline to our emotional core
Erupting on cue,
with the ease of a dorm room
It frothed forth faster than I could fill the lines
Easy men, we may have to actually try some day
We revolved so well together
No trying required
No barriers
Just the sweet flow of crude ideas
thinking faster than writing
fully lubricated
manifesting satisfaction of one self
One vision at a time
But we grew apart
Something changed
Walls between us
Now we talk through mediators
Cranial correspondents
The kids don't recognize us without drinks in our hands
Casting bitter glances, with gooey loved filled longing centers
Oh to have that back again!
With all that we've learned in our own time apart
We'd be beautiful together
More than just little eruptions
and thick flowing crude
We'd be hydrogen and continental shiftings
Mass climate change with laughing glaciers
Sadistic trees, taking it all back, storming the cities
with sentient clouds, giving press conferences
revealing their cumulus intellects
and time-free moments in the sun
strikingly similar to the first view you receive in heaven
and a way to reach it in your dreams
And oh no, what's this
I cannot even finish this without
Static and distraction
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Mad World
I've become utterly intimidated by this blog. I can still post freely on my myspace blog, but here...it's like I'm Hitler and I'm on stage trying to entertain an audience of allied soldiers. Nothing's going to work.
It's been a couple weeks since I tried to write on here, but school has been battering me around. I had a moment today...I was making up an exam I had missed while in the hospital with a viral infection last month. I had to take the test in what was essentially a hallway right outside a couple of offices. In one office my professor chatted with a student about video games. In the other, another prof who apparently heads the department or serves on some nonsensical bureaucratic committee feverishly held a phone conversation. They were discussing the third paragraph in some official letter that had to do with policy regarding the termination of professors. The way he kept going on and on about how the paragraph "just wasn't right" in such a loud and irritating tone made concentrating quite difficult. Not to mention the pertinent debate going on in the other room about Assassin's Creed and whether the combat style is too disorienting. The Paragraph Professor annoyed me the most. And distracted me to no end. Needless to say, I didn't do very well on the exam. But then I had that moment when I realized the folly of so much of society's existence. This guy's life has come down to sitting in an office and having stressful phone conversations about some words in an insignificant letter? So much of what everyone is this world HAS to do in order to "earn a living" is just preposterous. What's worse is the way so many get wrapped up in what they're doing and fall victim to the fallacy that it is worth stress and precious time. Holden Caulfield must be weeping in a beer somewhere. In today's world you're almost required to become a "phoney." (be someone or something you are not) And I include in that, spending your time, life, and energy on things that mean very little to you personally. Reports? Sales figures? Mission Statements? Resumes? When did the world become all about being fake and "selling yourself," "putting forth an image," and ultimately filling each day with nonsense?
I know some of your out there will read this and perhaps agree with the sentiment, but then that adult in you will kick in and you'll give me a pat on the head before telling me how not everyone can just pursue their passions in life -- that all those things (reports, committees, charts, company policies, etc) are all important. It's like we all fall asleep and forget that we each only have a limited time on this planet. Why must we WASTE it worrying over complete bullshit that deep down we really don't care about? Honestly -- what's more important to you: the stuff you do all day at work, what you learn in school -- or your family, your friends, art, music, books, nature, holidays, etc????? I realize we have to have jobs in order to survive, but how do so many seem to just accept it and disconnect from the inner self and it's longings? How do people go through each day CARING about the nonsense they have to do? When time is so short and life so tenable -- how can you sit in a dreary office all day freaking out over some damn paragraph in a letter and NOT be severely upset about the fact that that is what your life has come to? I don't understand the mechanics behind it. How do you will yourself to forget what you really care about and instead do all that other garbage?
I don't know....I just don't know where or how I'm meant to fit into this world. Unless it involves something I genuinely care about or am interested in, I just don't see how I can do the same thing day after day.
It's been a couple weeks since I tried to write on here, but school has been battering me around. I had a moment today...I was making up an exam I had missed while in the hospital with a viral infection last month. I had to take the test in what was essentially a hallway right outside a couple of offices. In one office my professor chatted with a student about video games. In the other, another prof who apparently heads the department or serves on some nonsensical bureaucratic committee feverishly held a phone conversation. They were discussing the third paragraph in some official letter that had to do with policy regarding the termination of professors. The way he kept going on and on about how the paragraph "just wasn't right" in such a loud and irritating tone made concentrating quite difficult. Not to mention the pertinent debate going on in the other room about Assassin's Creed and whether the combat style is too disorienting. The Paragraph Professor annoyed me the most. And distracted me to no end. Needless to say, I didn't do very well on the exam. But then I had that moment when I realized the folly of so much of society's existence. This guy's life has come down to sitting in an office and having stressful phone conversations about some words in an insignificant letter? So much of what everyone is this world HAS to do in order to "earn a living" is just preposterous. What's worse is the way so many get wrapped up in what they're doing and fall victim to the fallacy that it is worth stress and precious time. Holden Caulfield must be weeping in a beer somewhere. In today's world you're almost required to become a "phoney." (be someone or something you are not) And I include in that, spending your time, life, and energy on things that mean very little to you personally. Reports? Sales figures? Mission Statements? Resumes? When did the world become all about being fake and "selling yourself," "putting forth an image," and ultimately filling each day with nonsense?
I know some of your out there will read this and perhaps agree with the sentiment, but then that adult in you will kick in and you'll give me a pat on the head before telling me how not everyone can just pursue their passions in life -- that all those things (reports, committees, charts, company policies, etc) are all important. It's like we all fall asleep and forget that we each only have a limited time on this planet. Why must we WASTE it worrying over complete bullshit that deep down we really don't care about? Honestly -- what's more important to you: the stuff you do all day at work, what you learn in school -- or your family, your friends, art, music, books, nature, holidays, etc????? I realize we have to have jobs in order to survive, but how do so many seem to just accept it and disconnect from the inner self and it's longings? How do people go through each day CARING about the nonsense they have to do? When time is so short and life so tenable -- how can you sit in a dreary office all day freaking out over some damn paragraph in a letter and NOT be severely upset about the fact that that is what your life has come to? I don't understand the mechanics behind it. How do you will yourself to forget what you really care about and instead do all that other garbage?
I don't know....I just don't know where or how I'm meant to fit into this world. Unless it involves something I genuinely care about or am interested in, I just don't see how I can do the same thing day after day.
Friday, April 4, 2008
McCready Speaks
Good old McCready here. Our dear friend Richard has been ignoring me lately. But it's not his fault. He has that ADD. His brain never met a distracting thought it didn't like.
But you know, I've been thinking about it. It's possible that his problem with distraction and focusing is not simply of natural origin. At first I found this world of yours rather limited and overflowing with sleepwalking dead. But there is something else going on here. It's very hidden. Whoever is keeping it hidden has done a fair job of it, too. There are more like our friend Richard out there. Perhaps even some of you share his...condition. Have trouble sleeping? Strange, detailed dreams? Awake exhausted and aching? Have trouble fitting into the machine of society? Notice things that most do not? Feel like parts of your brain have been blocked off? That your mind is a swirling tornado of thoughts, feelings, and ideas? Oh yes, there are more of you out there. What a sight when all of your heads finally clear and you start rearranging this little world. Not that it matters to me, I have other places to be. But traveling was never a skill of mine.
Anyhow, maybe one of these "drug companies" (I still can't get over that one!) will accidentally manufacture a pill that can illuminate your clouded minds. Or maybe you'll stumble your way through the dark and into the light all on your own. (There's much more personal self-satisfaction if you do it yourself.) Goodbye for now, my friends. Look for me in your dreams, I do love to lurk.
But you know, I've been thinking about it. It's possible that his problem with distraction and focusing is not simply of natural origin. At first I found this world of yours rather limited and overflowing with sleepwalking dead. But there is something else going on here. It's very hidden. Whoever is keeping it hidden has done a fair job of it, too. There are more like our friend Richard out there. Perhaps even some of you share his...condition. Have trouble sleeping? Strange, detailed dreams? Awake exhausted and aching? Have trouble fitting into the machine of society? Notice things that most do not? Feel like parts of your brain have been blocked off? That your mind is a swirling tornado of thoughts, feelings, and ideas? Oh yes, there are more of you out there. What a sight when all of your heads finally clear and you start rearranging this little world. Not that it matters to me, I have other places to be. But traveling was never a skill of mine.
Anyhow, maybe one of these "drug companies" (I still can't get over that one!) will accidentally manufacture a pill that can illuminate your clouded minds. Or maybe you'll stumble your way through the dark and into the light all on your own. (There's much more personal self-satisfaction if you do it yourself.) Goodbye for now, my friends. Look for me in your dreams, I do love to lurk.
Posting for Posting's Sake
After spring break, all my writing attempts got pushed to the back of the mental workshop. I'm also finding it harder and harder to blog on here and on myspace. Like now there's pressure or something. So, this morning I'm posting for the sake of posting. I have to keep doing this or I'll slip back into apathy.
I've also been pondering a different story idea than the whole McCready thing. (naturally) It involves the world being decimated by a virus or chemical warfare. Seemingly everyone is dead and gone. But there's a lone survivor who doesn't quite recall who is he or what has happened. I think he knows his name and has a scattering of memories, but the problem is more that everything is just garbled in his head. He wakes up on a island in the Pacific - maybe near Australia or New Zealand. Much to his surprise, the ones who find him and wake him up are not other survivors, but are actually robots. Some of them look just like humans, but he can tell a difference. They take him back to civilization where he discovers that there are millions of these robots and that they're essentially cleaning up and rebuilding from the destruction. They hold him in some sort of reverence since he is the first living human they've found. Almost like how we would treat the last remaining member of an animal species.
Anyway, that's the new thing bouncing around in my head. I drive around town and imagine no humans. Or maybe robots driving around trying to continue the illusion of society for the lone survivor's mental well-being.
I've also been pondering a different story idea than the whole McCready thing. (naturally) It involves the world being decimated by a virus or chemical warfare. Seemingly everyone is dead and gone. But there's a lone survivor who doesn't quite recall who is he or what has happened. I think he knows his name and has a scattering of memories, but the problem is more that everything is just garbled in his head. He wakes up on a island in the Pacific - maybe near Australia or New Zealand. Much to his surprise, the ones who find him and wake him up are not other survivors, but are actually robots. Some of them look just like humans, but he can tell a difference. They take him back to civilization where he discovers that there are millions of these robots and that they're essentially cleaning up and rebuilding from the destruction. They hold him in some sort of reverence since he is the first living human they've found. Almost like how we would treat the last remaining member of an animal species.
Anyway, that's the new thing bouncing around in my head. I drive around town and imagine no humans. Or maybe robots driving around trying to continue the illusion of society for the lone survivor's mental well-being.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
A Roadblock Finally Sticks
Well, spring break is over. (No, this is not part of my story or my little "story notes") I did a good job over the last part of the break with my writing. I actually managed to write consistently for about 5 days on the same story idea (the McCready related stuff). The usual roadblocks would arise -- little things like names, big things like plot points, and issues such as whether to remain in 1st person (which strikes me as being less favored and only best used for certain stories, but I could be completely wrong) or switch to the seemingly more appropriate (but harder for me to keep writing without getting caught up in the little things) 3rd person, but I pushed through and just kept writing - something...anything. But the roadblocks are piling up and I think I'm just about stalled. There have also been some personal issues getting in the way the last couple of days, but hey -- aren't those the types of situations that most good writers thrive under?
And then today the inevitable "coming up with more story ideas" occurred. Normally when I get an idea and I have enough concentration and lack of inner criticism to start writing, I'll get an entirely new idea a short time later. Then my attention will be drawn to this new one. Then I'll get another one - and lose interest in the previous idea. And so on. I wish I could write as quickly as Stephen King, so that my ideas wouldn't always end up dying on the vine.
So what do I write about in this blog now? I've said about all I have to say on my writing for tonight. But I don't think those reading this will remain interested if all I talk about is behind the scenes turmoil related to my writing. If this were my Myspace blog right now, I would probably comment on school, my girlfriend, how I finally got to see "There Will Be Blood" this weekend, the animals, and maybe even the personal issues I mentioned. But I don't feel as open in that regard here. Odd, because on Myspace I wouldn't feel comfortable posting my creative efforts. Maybe it is something to do with keeping my identity private on here....
I CAN talk about Girl Scout Cookies, though. I've gotta say, as wonderful as they are, it seems like each year they get less tasty and smaller in size. I used to LOVE Samoas....but this year, I ate the first box weeks ago and haven't even touched the second one. The Thin Mints are still good -- especially out of the fridge. I found the Tag-a-Longs to be quite disappointing after all the ado other people made over them.
And then today the inevitable "coming up with more story ideas" occurred. Normally when I get an idea and I have enough concentration and lack of inner criticism to start writing, I'll get an entirely new idea a short time later. Then my attention will be drawn to this new one. Then I'll get another one - and lose interest in the previous idea. And so on. I wish I could write as quickly as Stephen King, so that my ideas wouldn't always end up dying on the vine.
So what do I write about in this blog now? I've said about all I have to say on my writing for tonight. But I don't think those reading this will remain interested if all I talk about is behind the scenes turmoil related to my writing. If this were my Myspace blog right now, I would probably comment on school, my girlfriend, how I finally got to see "There Will Be Blood" this weekend, the animals, and maybe even the personal issues I mentioned. But I don't feel as open in that regard here. Odd, because on Myspace I wouldn't feel comfortable posting my creative efforts. Maybe it is something to do with keeping my identity private on here....
I CAN talk about Girl Scout Cookies, though. I've gotta say, as wonderful as they are, it seems like each year they get less tasty and smaller in size. I used to LOVE Samoas....but this year, I ate the first box weeks ago and haven't even touched the second one. The Thin Mints are still good -- especially out of the fridge. I found the Tag-a-Longs to be quite disappointing after all the ado other people made over them.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Golden Slumbers
Sleep has never been an easy thing for me. I've never arisen in the morning, rolled merrily out of bed, greeted the day with a dramatic stretch, and proceeded onward magically refreshed and full of energy. I see people who go running at 6AM and think they must be on cocaine. In my life, sleep does not equal rest. Sleep is a tense, draining struggle. I wake up feeling just as tired, if not more exhausted than when I went to bed. I chew through mouth guards that are not meant to be chewed through. I wake up sore, feeling like I've just spent the night being dragged through the woods by a pack of wolves. The fuzzy-headed feeling never quite leaves. I pass through my days in some measure of a daze, never knowing what it's like to have a clear mind. I cannot fall asleep during daylight - even if I've been up all night. Deep down at times, I feel like I have to be awake to see the sun. To be asleep while it is above the horizon would be to miss something...significant.
But it has gotten better. Lately things aren't so severe. Perhaps my body (or mind) has adjusted to my turbulent sleeping habits as I've grown older. The dreams are still abnormally detailed and strange, but more and more I have dreams that continue from previous nights.
And then there is McCready. This mustached, smiling man dressed like a villain in a Western. But he doesn't scare me. My instincts tell me I should be afraid - very afraid, but I'm not.
But it has gotten better. Lately things aren't so severe. Perhaps my body (or mind) has adjusted to my turbulent sleeping habits as I've grown older. The dreams are still abnormally detailed and strange, but more and more I have dreams that continue from previous nights.
And then there is McCready. This mustached, smiling man dressed like a villain in a Western. But he doesn't scare me. My instincts tell me I should be afraid - very afraid, but I'm not.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
If You Talk Too Much My Head Will Explode
"I don't want you to try and save me / no, I don't want you at all" - People in Planes
Consider this a rough draft. Consider this a forward if you will. Consider this a warning. I am not Richard, I am McCready. If Richard continues writing down every little happening and manages to form it into a coherent vision...well, good for him. But, if he does, you will be hearing an awful lot about me. Undoubtedly some of it will be untrue or exaggerated. For instance, it's not true that I hate human beings. I do like some of them. The few who are truly awake. It's also not true that I am a demon or a fallen angel or any nonsense like that. And I never once burned an entire town and all that lived within it to the ground. I let all the animals go. Cows, chickens, and pigs are for eating. Dogs and cats are pleasant company. People are vacant, mad husks of formal potential that do little more than clutter up the landscape. And I do not understand where Richard got the idea that I am a cowboy! I have never been any such thing - in any life! Read on if you care to. His rambling prose will soon follow with dreadful attempts at literary competency. It probably will not even be in a sensible order. Organization eludes him. If you wish to query me about some of what you will learn, by all means, ask. I have the time, believe me.
Consider this a rough draft. Consider this a forward if you will. Consider this a warning. I am not Richard, I am McCready. If Richard continues writing down every little happening and manages to form it into a coherent vision...well, good for him. But, if he does, you will be hearing an awful lot about me. Undoubtedly some of it will be untrue or exaggerated. For instance, it's not true that I hate human beings. I do like some of them. The few who are truly awake. It's also not true that I am a demon or a fallen angel or any nonsense like that. And I never once burned an entire town and all that lived within it to the ground. I let all the animals go. Cows, chickens, and pigs are for eating. Dogs and cats are pleasant company. People are vacant, mad husks of formal potential that do little more than clutter up the landscape. And I do not understand where Richard got the idea that I am a cowboy! I have never been any such thing - in any life! Read on if you care to. His rambling prose will soon follow with dreadful attempts at literary competency. It probably will not even be in a sensible order. Organization eludes him. If you wish to query me about some of what you will learn, by all means, ask. I have the time, believe me.
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