I wrote something new last night, but I will have to wait till tomorrow to post.
Being on here is good for me sometimes, you know? Not for the naked ladies, though I love them very much. Not for the groups, as much as they helped me in the past.
It is in part for the friends I still have here.
But it is truly about this blog. I don't blog anywhere but SG these days. When I'm on here a lot (like in the past week or so) I feel pressured to create. This pressure only comes from me. Under the assumption that some people might read this (anybody out there?), knowing I post less sexypics of me than ever before, I want to contribute something interesting. I force my creative juices into action. I'm not always crazy about the results (I'm no poet laureate, that's for certain) but at least I'm writing. I have an outlet. Good things come when I create for the sake of it. Then I can go on to creating and refining specifically.
For instance, for three-four days I've been pushing a creative spark towards poetry. Then in the car today, I think I figured the key to the missing speech in David's Gods that I have been chasing for over a year now.
(Something to do with not understanding the draw and the appeal, that that mystery becomes part of the draw as well, cycling upon itself, that even if he could know what it is to be free of it, he would choose not to know. I'll work out the details later, but THIS was important.)
I want to make more. New poem tomorrow, of course, but give me more.
Give me a sentence, and intention, a person, a place. A mystery, a conundrum. Can't tell you what I'll do with it, cause I don't rightly know myself till I do it/
Please. Give me something.
Love to you...
Being on here is good for me sometimes, you know? Not for the naked ladies, though I love them very much. Not for the groups, as much as they helped me in the past.
It is in part for the friends I still have here.
But it is truly about this blog. I don't blog anywhere but SG these days. When I'm on here a lot (like in the past week or so) I feel pressured to create. This pressure only comes from me. Under the assumption that some people might read this (anybody out there?), knowing I post less sexypics of me than ever before, I want to contribute something interesting. I force my creative juices into action. I'm not always crazy about the results (I'm no poet laureate, that's for certain) but at least I'm writing. I have an outlet. Good things come when I create for the sake of it. Then I can go on to creating and refining specifically.
For instance, for three-four days I've been pushing a creative spark towards poetry. Then in the car today, I think I figured the key to the missing speech in David's Gods that I have been chasing for over a year now.
(Something to do with not understanding the draw and the appeal, that that mystery becomes part of the draw as well, cycling upon itself, that even if he could know what it is to be free of it, he would choose not to know. I'll work out the details later, but THIS was important.)
I want to make more. New poem tomorrow, of course, but give me more.
Give me a sentence, and intention, a person, a place. A mystery, a conundrum. Can't tell you what I'll do with it, cause I don't rightly know myself till I do it/
Please. Give me something.
Love to you...
grayness:
A man receives a letter from his son, who has been dead for years, mailed just before he died.