Some of my ideas are so complicated that the poem I've written isn't a finished product, but another phase in my gathering of material. A consolidation of previous materials, illuminating certain relationships but not expressing them adequately enough for my liking.
There is the Logos, and there are Logo's, and both work in similar ways. Logo's create a virtual Logos. Its a complicated thing for me to fit into a poem.
Disappointed by "Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul". Its a humorous story, but the language isn't beautiful enough. Its not to my taste, I think.
I have another notebook about to be opened up, for the purpose of "reading as a writer" - noting things that jump out at me from the books I read, writing reviews and pillaging ideas.
All in all, its been a fairly productive day. Wrote out my story from last night ("Itch"), then rewrote the poem. Came back from the library with a couple of novels (my god, its the worst library I've ever been too). However, one of those days flavoured by excessive haunting; feeling out of place. What was it Anne Rice said about writing?....
"Writers write about what obsesses them," says Rice. "You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is."
Feeling out of place is my personal demon. And I do not mean in some teenage social angst kind of way. I mean in the sense of losing everything over night, having your history and friends denied you. That I know. I just can't write about it easily.
Much easier to write about the time I was almost shot in the face.
Oh god, its here right now. If only I could get fucked up, but the writer in me won't allow it. Arrrrrghhh.......
[...transmission terminated...]
"Oho, so now I've got your attention - pick up that pen or I'm giving you a name!"
ReplyDelete