December 26th 2016
will i write?
No. I will not. I do not love this world as much as I repudiate it.
January 17th 2016
This space is to record my thoughts and feelings, as well as events both from the shared world and from dreams.
I’m sure formatting etc will improve with time.
My writing is slippery. In 2011 or so, perhaps 2010, I wanted to publish a book called 5-7-5. A book of my haikus. That never happened.
For the past three years I’ve been toying with publishing a book of poems, A Different Kinda Backbone. A book is so concrete. The notion of the book, as I live it, is not. So, there is conflict. Why should I publish? Because I feel the world needs to hear this. Then the world moves on. Yet the words stay unmoved. There meanings then are not quite the same. Because their audience has changed.
I’ve written poems, predominantly. I’ve written short pieces. Predominantly.
I’ve been writing since the 1980s. I don’t have much to show. I don’t have those pieces. Like the one on Namibia. I don’t want to look back. Yet there it is. The world is so different from 1980. There is the stepping front and center of alienation, of power dynamics. There is a loss of naivety. There is no longer the notion, for example, of the belly of the beast. Now we have the tentacles of the machine, or the matrix. Singularity has been usurped by plurality.
I want to write songs. I want to evoke feelings more than thoughts. The thoughts on those feelings will be shared here perhaps.
Writing is an act. A social act. A political act. Active act. It cannot be passive.
I see so much out there from the perspective of the able bodied white male of means. Am I to be the voice of me? Yes.
So, who am I? I’ve lived nearly half of the twentieth century. Born in 1961, before JORDACHE and when McDonald’s was in its infancy. It is amazing how different the twenty-first century feels. Being raised in the USA I of course anticipated the year 2K informed by the Jetsons. It’s so different. The difference baffles the mind.
Much to worry on. Freedom. True freedom of thought for example. There is not very much time that is not part of the machine. Hand-held technology. Add to the isolation via providing a personal link to machine mediated interconnectedness. Facebook. I quit Facebook for a day and felt like I had wiped out 561 people and had to get back on immediately.
Yet. Here I am typing this on the network. I’m not writing this on a note-book. I’m keeping this here.
There’s much to celebrate. We are peeling consciousness on the pieces of our shared puzzle. There’s identity politics. Blacks. People of Color. Gays. Transgender. Cis. It’s so tolerant.
Yet. Is. It? Really.
Lucky I have a lot of time. I am on disability. That throws me into a bit of poverty but a bundle of time.
I’m gonna reserve my very personal thoughts for pen and paper. But no, I will have to share thoughts that every one can pick up on as pertaining to their existences. I do not mind. It will never be confirmed or denied.
Yes, there will be leaps such as this. Fear not. You will land on your feet. Simply feel the new ground and let’s keep on.
Despite all the changes from the twentieth to the twenty first century we still have the same oppositionals as I’ll call them. Ayn Rand’s folks versus those that still yearn for commonwealth and common good. But we have seemingly lost the comm-unists.
I’m in menopause. Planet Earth is hot flashing with me. We are both stormy. We are unpredictable to very own selves. Do not ask why these words and not others.
Here’s what I plan to do. Write some here on the regular. Use my time to write, regardless of where it goes. Let’s take this journey together.
Now there are still some grammar issues that I still struggle with. One is the difference between let’s and lets. Lets see if I can learn to navigate the two.