wow. 2 weeks.
this thing was supposed to be my grand soap box. the place that i could yell as loud as i want, speak out with no one to interrupt me, rant forth unchecked in opinionated glory. then i ran out of opinions.
its not even that i dont have the time anymore. i am in a kind of insucking mode right now. my output of words is low because im reading lots and sort of charging up that battery.
the book is idling with the occasional rev to keep itself awake. i dont want it to all of a sudden start sounding like chuck palahniuk just because the last 3 1/2 books i have read were his. though he is the first prose writer i have read so analytically and tried to learn from. and this stuff i am learning will certainly influence how i write.
however as i said, the writing is not much happening right now. i am learning some groovy tricks with paintshop, which i then try to figure out in photoshop, which can do way more stuff. but at work, where i have oodles of free time, i play.
in photoshop i am in the proccess of adding a flaming third eye to a girls forehead. its pretty cool.
all in all, all is calm. which is weird and disconcerting as hell, but nice i guess. it certainly doesnt make much to blog about though.
heres another old poem which i wrote a couple of years ago after a long long dry spell. i had been trying to explain to this poet friend of mine who had recently done an author reading at the bookstore where i worked how creatively dead i felt. when i was done he said, "what you just told me is a poem, write it down."
it was the skeleton of a poem.

skulldusty twigdry shambledancing skeleton
dragged to lurching life by threads of my longing
resplendent in white linen
beneath the spotlight swaying
to music i can barely hear
this beautiful decaying thing
is grinning at me beckoning
come and join the dance
the brittle fingers of its hands

curl up like hooks to reel me in
and all the time that grin
i reach out though i must not
though know i must not
but still i must

and as i touch the whole thing turns to dust
of course
that hangs in the air for a moment like snow
and i am alone in the spotlight glow
the puppeteer has vanished
leaving not even the strings
and i am alone on a lighted stage

with nothing to do
but sing