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perversewriter
14 August 2009 @ 10:30 pm
I just watched a movie called Dorian Blues. It really impressed me. It was essentially a coming out story, but it was brilliantly told. More than that, it was insightful and witty. The style was playful and engaging. And the entire thing was a mixture of winking humor and truly honest heart.

I definitely recommend it.

Also good: Dakota Skye and SLC Punk.

Slackers was decent and School of Life was surprisingly provoking.
 
 
perversewriter
07 August 2009 @ 11:18 am
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:
somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs,
while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again;
but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


I'm very impressed by that. Yeats is definitely on my reading list.
 
 
perversewriter
02 August 2009 @ 07:35 pm
Blah  
I haven't written anything in too long. I have ideas - dozens of them - but every time I sit down to actually produce the story I stall. It scares me.

All the things I want to do. All the potential that I sometimes allow myself to believe that I have. It all depends on actually getting words on paper. How am I supposed to craft these perfect, poignant stories when I can't so much as write a nursery rhyme? I want to blame it on writer's block but I don't even know what that means.

Maybe I'm just being lazy. Maybe I'm terrified of starting one more story only to realize that it's not good. That I'm not good.

Is the fact that I'm my own worst critic going to spur me on to produce something great or is it only paralyzing me with indecision and pressure? Do I need to find some arrogance and self belief in order to make this happen, or do I only deserve to feel good about myself after I've earned it?

I'm going to write something this week. I have to.
 
 
 
perversewriter
28 July 2009 @ 10:15 am
If you really want to control the country, you don't attack the big issues. You determine what factors combine to create the person who opposes you. And then, you destroy those factors. You can completely eliminate an opposing force and move to further your own goals in that way.

On a related but completely separate thought, you can't argue politics or religion because they are simply someone's opinion. They are opinions that they arrived at because of their life experiences and the beliefs of the people around them. You can try to input new information or a different way of looking at things to people, but you don't know how deeply ingrained the beliefs forming that opinion are. An alternative opinion might betray some deeply held sense of truth within their universe. To simply “change their mind” would alter their reality and the upheaval from that sort of change could completely destroy them.

But then again, I've changed my opinion on many, many things and I believe I'm the better for it. Which, of course, begs the question if any outside force can truly instigate change in a person. Have I learned simply because someone told me something? Not often, if ever. I learned because I experienced the revelation for myself. Then again, how much wiser could I be if I delved into the work of those before me and fed on their genius?

After some cursory research online, I find that a lot of the questions I'm asking myself are actually philosophical quandaries experienced and written about by many people before me. One good thing about the finding is that I'm probably not going insane ... unless this is actually one of the ways that people go insane.

Now, I have to decide whether I keep stumbling along the path I'm on now and hope to discover something different and mine alone, or whether I delve into philosophy very deeply and discover the knowledge uncovered by people before me. Part of me likes discovering my own way but part of me realizes it's like poking around in the dark looking for treasure when I've got a treasure map in my back pocket.

Unless, of course, each person has their own treasure box and they end up with something they weren't meant to have if they take the easy way out rather than stumbling around in the woods for a while. There's also the possibility that people can't truly learn unless they discover the roots of the problem for themselves. Intense meditation upon the subject matter could cause that sense of discovery, however.

I'll have to give it some thought. Any opinions?
 
 
 
perversewriter
28 July 2009 @ 05:50 am
I've been really into photography lately. I got a too expensive camera and ran all over the country side taking pictures. I even convinced my cousin to pose for me. I feel embarrassed sort of, for taking on another hobby and thinking I'm going to be any good at it. Like desperately hoping that I could someday write something good enough to ... wow. Total change of mood here, but when I searched my mind for the criteria that I so desperately wanted in a novel, here's what I found: something good enough that I would be proud to have written it. I really am my own worst critic. I didn't want something good enough to be published; shitty books are published all the time. <- self indulgent use of semi-colon. Look how pleased I am with myself.

Now, this gives me two thoughts. The first is that I obviously undermine myself and there's probably too much pressure to get it perfect the first time. But the second thought, the second thought is that I might not be the best right at this moment but I'm definitely, definitely on the right track. I trust myself to know when a book is good and when a book is bad. (This is where it's going to get a little egotistical and I do apologize but maybe empathizing with every single person in the world and being afraid to believe or oh-god-say that you're better at something than other people isn't the best thing in the world. Maybe people need the competition. Maybe they need to recognize their own abilities so that they can believe in themselves.)

The point is, I'm a good writer. Is my grammar so spot on that I never need to proof read? No. In fact, I don't know how to spell every word in the English language either.

-This is a lot of tip toeing around and second guessing myself after my earlier speech, huh?-

But I'm good. I can't delay producing work until I discover whatever it is that I'm looking for. I'm being pulled through life and I cherish the journey. The truths that I discover in whatever moment I'm in, remain truths forever. I might change and move on to different truths, but they remain real within that time and within that situation. Other people might find themselves in the truths that I previously held and within that moment of their journey something that I say might hold some meaning.

Anyway, I'm a good writer and hell, I might be a good photographer too. Not yet, I'm sure. <- This is the self doubting bullshit I'm talking about. Why not show a little pride.

Here are my pictures. (I'm just starting out.) But I'm going to practice until I'm awesome.






And good god, I know this is long enough but we're going to have a little survey. If anyone has managed to read all this.

From all the journals you've ready by me, am I:

a.) more inside my head than any person could possibly need to be
b.) possibly crazy
c.) making way too big a deal about ordinary thoughts
d.) struggling to find myself in the world
e.) having some interesting ideas
f.) Other - please explain


Disclaimer: I may or may not be stoned.
Note: I really need to look up stream of consciousness writing. I wonder if this is it.
 
 
perversewriter
04 June 2009 @ 02:32 am
So ... something's happened and I'm not sure what.

Everything is going really well. I've been learning right along. I've been accomplishing a lot. And for some reason I've chosen to piss it all away the last couple of days. I signed back onto aim. I joined a god damn rpg - role playing game. I've played them before many times in the past. It eats up my time and allows me to delve fully into a sort of thoughtless coma state. But why would I do it now?

The obvious answer would be that I just returned home from my grandma's house and I was lonely. Desperately lonely and unhappy because there was no one to talk to and nothing to do. So, I looked for the comfort of oblivion in a place that I had found it many times before.

Unlike those times, I have found neither distraction nor happiness. It's a tasteless, effortless, thoughtless process. Creating the character was interesting, just as creating games is always interesting, but actually playing in the game or playing the character is unappealing.

I was whining and bitching like a child today because they wouldn't let me into the game quickly enough. I heard myself but I didn't bother stopping myself or asking myself why. I had to stay focused because to veer off the path for even a moment would bring all those questions back to the forefront. I would have to ask myself why I was doing it rather than focusing on the things that I truly care about. I would be forced to admit that my actions were weak and pointless. That they were driven my loneliness and aimlessness rather than true desire.

Why would I delve back into something that I no longer enjoy or care about when there are so many things that I want to learn so desperately? I've been acting the fool and the failure that I no longer wish to be. It's enough. No more.

Also? I no longer want anyone reading this damn journal! I loved it so much when I had a journal that I could write in that no one read. I liked being able to speak my mind without direct interaction of other people. The possibility of a person stumbling across the journal was thrilling, but knowing that people are actually listening to my rambling processes is not.

I'm alone and unhappy. I feel that way because I do not have a purpose. I've let it slip away and that was my own fault. It's time to focus yet again on so many things. I'm living my life the way that I want to live it - starting now.
 
 
perversewriter
02 June 2009 @ 02:30 pm
Eek  
Okay, guys. Things are actually coming together. My financial aid is freaken set. That's right, the money I will need for the semester is actually accounted for and there is absolutely nothing stopping me from going to school this fall. It's finally sinking in and I am so excited.

Also, look what Edinboro has:

Visual Arts & Literature

"The mission of the Visual Arts and Literature Living/Learning Floor is to enhance the university experience for studio artists, writers, animators, and film makers, as well as other like-minded students. Through the efforts of the Scholar-in-Residence, a deep sense of community has been developed through in-house activites such as the group creation of murals and entering into intellectual competitions with fellow Living/Learning Floors. In addition, the floor has taken the initiative to organize field trips to art exhibitions and other cultural events, in Erie, Pittsburgh, and Cleveland."

It's just a grouping of students with programs and stuff, but I could not be more excited. God, that is just so perfect for me. It's so strange that things are finally coming together after such a long period of falling apart.

:D
 
 
perversewriter
30 May 2009 @ 03:03 am
Remember my purpose that was dwindling in equal measure with my misery? Well, it's back. I've returned from my grandma's and I'm oh so pleased to announce that there isn't a chance in hell of effortless joy distracting me from my goals. The atmosphere is tense, oppressive and unpleasant. I have nothing but free time to devote to whatever project I find interesting. There's not even conversation to drag me down to any level of mundane humanity.

It's just me and my thoughts again. My world, which flowed loosely around me in widening circles at my grandmother's house and happily overlapped and enveloped my grandmother and grandfather, now shrinks back from the frigid waves radiating through the house. I feel myself retracting into the shell of my body and find myself hiding away in increasingly smaller spaces.

I'm writing this now only because I want to document the feeling. I was alone and in this state for so long that I forgot what it was that I should be yearning for. Eventually, as my longing for human contact and warmth passes, I will carve out some meaning and find my purpose again. I'm contented with my own company for the most part. It is simply in this moment, when I can still remember the sensation of touch and the unwavering love that emanated from my grandma that I mourn. The most important lesson to take from this is that human contact is something to mourn the loss of. It may be my lot in life. I may luck out and find a way to balance my interests with peers that I love and respect. Either way, I must acknowledge that love and joy and laughter are all completely valid things to strive for. After getting a brief taste of mild contentment, I can see the appeal. Especially when juxtaposed with this aching loneliness and feeling of voiceless suffocation.

But hell, this too will pass.
 
 
perversewriter
22 May 2009 @ 09:31 pm
I've been absent for a while. Sorry about that. Not sure why it happened - well, we all know that's probably a lie. I'm the most disgustingly self aware person in the world. But let's just not.

Big news: Quit my job, University, Addiction, and Writing.Collapse )
 
 
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative