Archive for the ‘ Inspiration ’ Category

Invictus

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Just a lyric

“I can still remember the words and what they meant, as we etched them with our fingers in years of wet cement.”

I rather like that.

Upon further review…

This schedule has left me drained, depleted. Sometimes my muse flees like a rat down dark hallways fast filling with water.

But still I manage. Ploddingly adding a word here, excising one there; editing…an excuse to flex fingers on keyboard.

And then there comes a sudden explosion of inspiration or of something very nearly so:

Rewriting the first several chapters, adding more depth, new characters emerge and demand that they be explored, explained – given stage time, the novel moves in strange new directions. My synopsis goes out the window.

Deadlines and plot be damned. The story begins to write itself; I feel more like a medium than a writer. I begin to believe that the words merely pass through me, from the aether, to you.

Yes, I know I’m weird. I’ve made peace with that.

On writing…

Just sayin…

20120603-170113.jpg

Influx

These things I write. These emotions I have been given the gift to evoke. I have at my disposal descriptors for nearly every possible emotional-experiential influx.

I can make the words I choose become motion pictures in your minds; make every feeling so gruelingly real that you are forced to feel it. I will chain you to my muse and tied to my dream, my nightmare – you will fly and you will cry.

Hiatusical like a musical but not.

I have been busy. It’s the playoffs (playoff beard in this heat has been murder but I persevere); I’ve got all sorts of reasons for why I’ve been basically ignoring my blog.

None of them are really true though.

It’s mostly just that I don’t have all that much to say right now, and wasting space, even digital space, isn’t my style.

I’m sure that my blog will once again have daily posts, I’m just not going to promise that that day is today.

Soooooo, yeah.

Keep rocking hard.

Exhilarate/Annihilate

Inhale.

Life flows through me; something awakens within, something ephemeral and barely tangible. It almost doesn’t register on my consciousness.

My heartbeat skips and flutters, something tickles my mind.

Exhale.

Synapses fire, my pulse is pounding in my mind like drumbeats.

Drums, drums in the deep.

Inhale.

I cannot find words. There are none. I sincerely cannot think.

Exhale.

For the first time in my life I realize that I don’t need to be able to describe something to know that it is real:

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that.”

-Brian Andreas

Inhale…

A Job of Work

Whatever happened to that phrase?

A job of work. As in, “I’ve got a job of work to do.”

I have held many jobs in my lifetime. I hold several right now. Some are paid with chits that are sanctioned as currency by one government or another. Others, the important ones I think, are paid in dividends beyond price: son, friend, brother, boyfriend, husband, lover.

These sorts of jobs define our human experience, they make our existence what it is, was and ever will be. Whether good or bad, these jobs will come to define us in ways we will never entirely comprehend.

I hold many jobs of both sorts at this exact moment, my favorite is rather obviously that of being a writer, or being a good brother. I get paid for both of them, one somewhat differently than the other . . . but I do like to keep busy.

At any rate light at the end of tunnel, there is a beach waiting like a blank sheet of paper, a new chapter waiting to written upon its crisp emptiness, a story unfolds.

Perspective makes everything change, skew slightly left or right. Distance makes things clear.

I’m enjoying saying my silent goodbyes on my drives to and from, silently wishing-well into unknowing eyes, during salutations and valedictions. It’s been much more sweet than bitter. But that’s from my perspective.

Today is…

“Today I will do what you won’t, so that tomorrow I can do what you can’t.”

Stars

Every time I look up into the night sky I realize that I was born a thousand years too early.