Poetry is easy:
Write something, but make it about something else.
Poetry is easy:
Write something, but make it about exactly that.
Poetry is
Easy:
Write space white like paint in a can
(She always said: Happiness Writes White)
Shake
Poetry
Is easy: just write hard. Thought the cry out
Mix and jumble and Capitalize the important stuff
(Andmakeitallimportant). Periods like tears, commas like staggered breathing,
And make that one line way longer
Because, damn, how could it not?
Regular
Standard
Normal
Common
Traditional
Expected
“Minority” as defined “I was among the minority” (as a white man in a class of non-white women)
“Soul” as defined “it has soul,” i.e. It has character, depth, spirit. I am the wrong skin color to use this word.
Native American (even though we are referring to tribes that identify themselves as such)
Indian (even though we were referring to one of Indiana’s Native cultures that explicitly identifies as such), but can use Native Indian
Generalized as defined “I feel generalized” – because I can’t.
Marginalized as defined “I feel marginalized” – because I can’t.
I feel trapped and oddly policed. lol As if I’m being shoved into a blanket statement narration of who I am and what I’ve been through in my life. Continue reading
Pere Marquette Park.
I have a lot to say. I always do. I could talk the ears off a statue. I spend a lot of time enjoying life. And a lot of time developing questions inside my head. I write books based on those questions, based off other people who have other people thoughts, and the development of empathy. I’m a firm believer of the Real. A firm believer that there is nothing more important in this world than that simple statement: we are here. We must be. Must.
I also know there’s more to me than my body, my forward thoughts, my incensed words. I am more than my body.
So I’m pulling a list out of my head of things I’m grateful for, to anyone who will read.
Yet it seems, none are masters.
This blog might seem odd: I don’t exactly know where I’m going with it, except all the social media explosive SuperSites like Twitter and Facebook and even this site, WordPress, is diluting information at an incredible rate. I am officially inundated, and have come to a crossroads. A Hecate of the mind. A Genius Loci…
…Forsake actual research and dive into the humdrum of posting three times weekly, constantly retweeting or reposting or updating barely-thought information like some ADD child on Pixie Stix? Or keep things simple enough to speak about what I truly understand, and what I find as truth, beneath all this craziness?
I want to be published. In fact, I want to be published more than anything else in the world. More than getting married. More than winning the lottery. I want it so bad that I’ve been biting at the bit since fifth grade. Advice says (as they say in the Stock world): Diversify. Diversify diversify diversify. But the masters of the Market don’t. They play the market. I’m no master at the writing market, but I know enough not to diversify in areas I know little.
I could tweet ten times aday, re-posting writings from other bloggers that I found pertinent or poignent, filling the CHeisserer airwaves with… stuff… while trying to garner respect and support from the masses. I could burn out. Or I could continue writing and branch out only when I feel ready for it. I could be a jack of all trades, having a little experience here/a little there. I could, but I wonder if it’ll get me anywhere.
This might seem strange given my previous entry on Inventing Yourself. This entry goes hand-in-hand: a living resume is one thing, and preaching about things you know little about is another entirely. I am no master. I have no PhD, nor Masters from college. (Not that these titles seem to mean anything anymore: masters in their fields are often marginalized by the general populace for the inflammatory extremist, no? Or the florid exaggerator. Or the study that says Big Business Cured Cancer But Are Hiding The Truth, instead of the much more mundane truth of… no. The experiment failed, but it held promise.)
Wag the Dog or Research?
I feel you can go too far in this play at extending knowledge and be absorbed into a pingpong game where you’re a spectator who wants to win the game by himself: it’ll never happen. The truly successful people are those who step out of the established norm and create a market, or bring the market to them.
I personally feel there is too little new knowledge, or insight, out there on the web, and too many people are passing it around. Too much Infotainment. Too much vivid exaggeration that tugs at heartstrings and rams invisible talking-points home.
This may be an exaggeration: I might just be overwhelmed and frustrated. I see no use in a lot of what I see on the airwaves: most of it is discussing self-help from people who say it works. And the help does work. For them. For us? The rest? It’s a work ethic issue: we work hard, hard hard, instead of working smart. We’re all inundated to saturated desensitization. Why work when you can watch pandas masturbate on YouTube? Why pursue being known online when the Internet Denizens are dancing around with every blip of a thought on their sleeves? The internet is a place of centric thought-gathering: how does one change that?
You’re popular for a moment, then the popularity dies. Then you fight to find that popularity again, then it dies again. It feels almost like an addiction. And I get a feeling this is what being a professional writer will be: the fight to show the world you’re important. Or the fight for the world to see you’re important, and place value on your ability. And then, the next day, ReInvent Yourself.
I just don’t know how to wade through the lovers of sleeve-knowledge and find the creators, inventors, masters–for one, I wish to be one. For two, I believe I’m there, in my own right. At least partially: I love writing about writing. But that’s not all. I’m a diabetic cook. But that’s not all. I’m… psychological, interested in the occult (and study/research it), very well-educated with some very well-educated friends. So should I have multiple blogs? One for writing, one for paranormal research, one for diabetic cooking? When do I spread myself too thin? In the end, what is the point?
This blog is an experiment. When I find my voice I’ll focus on a single topic and dive. I’m fairly certain this will be for writing: I need it. I have an obsessive need to connect with everyone. I want to be a part of the writer spiderweb; I want to connect; I want to grow. I just think I’m doing a disservice to anyone reading by posting a writing entry, then a wine entry, then a diabetic entry, then a religious one. It’s all important, of course: I’m certain I’m not any more multifaceted than anyone else out there. But simplification is key, here. Not diversification. Anyone can get a Twitter account. Not anyone can consistently focus on a single topic.
I don’t want a simulacrum. I don’t want a fetish. My father said, when I was young, that if I study half an hour a night on a single topic, at the end of two years I’d be a master at it. I’ve studied a lot more than that on certain topics. Now what?
I apologize if this was disjointed. I had a stream-of-thought I had to type.
~x
Modern Fantastic 