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

alternate realities

i read a thing that made me sad, and posted a well meaning comment in the hopes of pointing out a different perspective on things. i think this was misunderstood.
i have not been exactly where this writer is, but have felt similarly powerless to change similarly shitty circumstances in my own life. my teen years were complete hell, as some of you know, since you went through it with me. right now i believe i am one of the happiest people i know. this is because i choose to be true to myself and do what it takes to be fulfilled, regardles of how it doesnt fit into others' plans for me..
it is not a pipe dream to believe that there are deeper reasons for the things that happen, or that possibly the things you do will have lasting effects that reach beyond yourself. why not? it is not unreasonable to at least experiment with directing your energy to create the effects you would prefer. we are not powerless to change things around us or within us, at any age. if we begin with what is inside, the effects there will be lasting, and it will not matter what the world does to hurt us, we will be our true selves regardless. if we allow ourselves to be sheeplike, to sleepwalk, to be led, we WILL have no power, and no consciousness even of the power we have given up of our own free will, in exchange for the easier path of following patterns and blaming others. if i had not looked at my fucked up family and chosen to think for myself and break away from that stupidness, i might have assumed that was all life had to offer, and i would be just like them now.
so it matters what you do. the choice to be here is made each moment and you do make it. the unseen reality you call a pipe dream is the future, and you are creating it. to assume that the what you do has no effect on things beyond yourself is selfish, irresponsible and blind. but even if that were true, its all about you on the inside, and in the end, in there, you're all you've got. so be kind to yourself in case no one else is.

mandamandala

here is the latest example of the groovy stuff i can accomplish at work. this took me all day. i rule.

m

technicalia

wow does anyone even read this thing anymore? i suck at this.
the other night i sang at an open mike for the first time in quite awhile. i was awesome. i recieved many excellent compliments and an offer to jam with a very wicked blues guitarist, who is also a good friend from way back. also an invitation to drum at another friends show. only a couple of the many exciting things going on. for example.....
i got my new computer.
my sweet, marvellous, FAST, clean new computer which i am admonished not to use on the internet to preserve the pristine condition of its virgin guts. it has music software that i cannot figure out how to use yet at all, but when i do is going to be an ENTIRE new world of creative stuff. i was intimidated by photoshop at first too, so i know ill figure this thing out, though it is even more alien. i could paint and draw before i started with photoshop and paintshop. music is something that i only really underestand intuitively. now i get to learn technical stuff.
look at me go with all the technical stuff.
whats interesting is that it was foretold to me that this would develop. a quite gifted psychic i used to work with did a reading for me a few months ago at a party with a hello kitty tarot deck. thats right, i said hello kitty. it was an amazingly good reading. hello kitty is the high priestess. she has no mouth. he pointed this out me me and i found it profound. anyway, he said that i would have to adopt a more mathematical approach to everything, that the circumstances of my life would soon dictate that i do so. i laughed at him. who the hell would have thought.
i feel all bursting at the seams, life is wicked.
i still cant write poetry, or anything for that matter. the book is idling, but shall be resumed when i know what the hell im going on about. meanwhile, heres some more old poetry (and by old i mean 3 months or so). its one of the songs that i sang the other night.

i am so tired of all this depth
i wish for something meaningless
let me assuage my loneliness
with brief and singular encounters
let no one say of me " at last ive found her"
let no one say again "she is the one"
and i will ask of you no more than you be gone before the sun can rise
forget the color of my eyes
close your own
you'll find
i could be anyone
you realise
the waters here are shallow now
but more than deep enough to drown in
sunken treasure glints below
hints at something that you wish youd never found
its bound around your neck just like an anchor
its been the violent wreck of many sailors
a neverending legacy of failure to admit
that all you ever saw was your own reflection
i dont object a bit to your affection
i dont mind being the object of devotion
but like any hungry goddess of the ocean
i demand no less than all
and i will leave you lost and broken
so think on this before you speak
the words that bind like rusty chains
and slowly drag you under
the height you have to fall from
to reach the bottom
leaves you lots of time to wonder why you ever dove at all
what the hell you thought you saw
the mystery that called to you illusiory
the hope that led you to the edge a lighthouse
illuminating nothing

see you all next time i have a free moment and something worthwhile to say.