Friday, September 28, 2007

Writing With One Hand Clapping

"There are stars in the Southern sky
"And if ever you decide
"You should go
"There is a taste of time sweetened honey
"Down the Seven Bridges Road"

One thing I hate about this blog is I feel it gives off a false impression. Like, I’m sane or something. Writing here is like writing in the center of a hurricane. I have to put out all thoughts of what’s around me, what my future – immediate or long term – might bring and then find the drive and passion and energy to get my inspirations to this page. A lot doesn’t make it, lost in the whirlwinds of this world. Funny part is, it may be that only by traveling to the nether world of my imagination that I stay alive.

"Somewhere in the distance I hear the bells ring
"Darkness settles on the town as the children start to sing.
"And the lady 'cross the street, she shuts out the night
"There's a cast of thousands waiting as she turns out the light."

So yeah, you’re seeing me here at my most lucid. Other times I’m so angry I could kill, so lonely I could die and so paralyzed with despair I literally cannot move a bone of my body. Sometimes my imagination rescues me and I dream of films or art or blog posts to create, most of which never makes the light of day. Instead, I feed off it to make it through the crisis time. Once I start to move again, it’s lost. I’ve messed up my personal life so badly I’ve become a vampire to my own art.

"I dont know how this whole business started
"Of you thinking that I had been untrue;
"But if you think that we’d be better parted
"It's gonna hurt me but I’ll break away from you."

So please appreciate the massive amount of energy and willpower it takes to bring you these sort of sideways peeks into my particular genius. Had I made my film and book, it would all be different, my words would be seen in a different light (that sounds so self-serving, doesn't it!). Instead, in trying to break the world’s heart, I broke my own. Here you can read the remnants of a shattered soul for as long as I can hold out. All I have to do is write with one hand clapping, one heart pining and one life waiting.

Oh, and don’t forget to write a fucking witty bird comment to top it all off.

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