Thursday, April 29, 2010

Reading and Writing





I'm trying to write every day.
When I'm not writing, I'm reading.
I highly recommend checking out www.thenervousbreakdown.com
Some of the best stuff I've ever read and I love incorporating it into my every day.

I also read Stephen King's "On Writing" and a lot of Bukowski.

Other writer friends have been writing a lot too so I've been reading their stuff

The creative bug is in the air, maybe?

It's probably a good time to want to be holed up in front of a computer screen or hunched over a notebook....scribbling out stuff....thinking it's all crap....

But anyways, yeah....now's a good time....it's going to be hot as hell soon.

I heard rumors of it getting in the 90s this weekend.

Curse you, Florida.

Ok, here's some new stuff I've been working on.

I don't know what I'm talking about half the time so bear with me.

"Sensory Overload: Sometimes it's Ok"

Is it bad that I’d like to say “take your inspiration and choke on it”?
I search and search with no avail
And I grow envious as I see you revel in it
Glorious words flow down on your pages like moonbeams from some great cosmic source
And I sit, staring
At black and white and grey
A nothingness I can’t escape from

"Blue Oyster Cult Morning"

It was a Blue Osyter Cult morning
headlines screamed of nonsense and suicides
everyone in the world was on the remedy
those pills your mother gave you really did do something this time

My room has no clocks because I don't want to know
how each moment keeps passing by so quickly
I'd have no lights too if I didn't like to read so much
those books that I've collected remind me that I'm alive

I used to be a breakfast person but now a cigarette replaces my first meal
for lunch I eat my own words and throw them up onto pages
my bathtub is my safe haven and Led Zeppelin, The Beatles and Jim Morrison accompany me
those guys knew there was magic beyond the way things really were

The stars come out to play and I hide from them
they remind me of the eyes I feel are always on me
watching me as I accomplish nothing and filling me with guilt
those who told me that dreams and hopes were wasteful might just be right


"Want"

I want you
to stop talking
to kiss the chapstick
off of my lips
to say what you really
mean and what you
really feel
for once
just once.

I want you
to quit doubting yourself
your looks
your hair
what you should do
what you shouldn't
and stop asking me
because I don't want
to admit that you're
wonderful.


.eye contact.

I caught you
stealing
a glance
that spelled
out eternity
and in one
.breath.
I fell
in love
and then
we both
looked
away
.unnoticed.
by everyone
else


"Girls"

Treacherous storms
That's what we are
Us girls
Us females
We fill our time
With needless pressures
We want our noses smaller
Our breasts bigger
Our skin darker
Our skin paler
Our hair straight
Our hair curly
Our voices heard

We give up comfort for style
We give up self respect for surgery
We knick ourselves shaving
We get high off of chemical hair dyes and perfumes
We get lost in fashion magazines
We curse our waistlines
We curse our flaws
We curse each other

But then we learn that guys just don't care about any of that
And it really doesn't seem fair


"The Fortune Teller"

The room was tight and cramped
Muskrats and earwax with a tint of incense
lingered in the air
She made me a cup of tea and wanted me to stay awhile
I saw no crystal ball yet she claimed to know the future
She said she saw it in the tea
Her hair was wavy
Her eyes were way too old
I wanted to know about dying
She didn't know the answer
I wanted to know about love
She looked the other way
"Your future"
she finally said while filling my cup again
"Will always lie in the questions you ask in the present."
She said nothing more until our teacups were empty
"That will be forty bucks, dear"
without missing a single beat


"Remember"

Remember that time
we walked around downtown
and stopped and looked over
the bridge
and the smell of roses was lingering
in the air
and then we got flashed
by that car full of rednecks
That girl's breasts were
just flopping in the wind
and we just stared
and called it
a night


"Dust"

this rose on my desk is dying
but it reminds me that I must keep living
without you
when all the petals fall
I'll collect them
and mail them to you
By the time they get there
they'll be dust
and you'll sweep that up too
and then empty it out
into the trash



It'll get better. And easier.

If I just believe.

1 comment: