The Writer's Life

In Which I Blow The Dust Off

Just Another Writer — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 05:36:51 +0000

Well now. Isn’t this a familiar scene? It’s been…well, it’s been a damn long time. And same as always, I find myself back here. I should expect it, really. Everywhere else, I grow attached. I make friends and censor myself a bit. And here, I can just be as frank as I please.

Pun not intended but that really worked out quite nicely, didn’t it? So. What’s happened in the…almost a year now, that I’ve been gone? I’ve found and lost both love and a job, conquered some personal demons, made some fantastic friends, begun the long and never-ending process of training myself to read microexpressions, and knocked someone’s teeth out (it was one tooth but still, he deserved it).

I’m a bit at a loss for words, which is pretty counter-productive here. There’s just so much to say and so little space to say it in. On some level, I guess I don’t want to say some of it. Does writing about something, even if it’s just for yourself, cheapen it? Either way, it feels good to just writ for the sake of writing again. So I’ll be back. For a while, at least.

PSA #32: Perspective and The Self

Just Another Writer — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 21:31:03 +0000

Feeling a little deep today, so if you’re not in the mood for it you should stop reading now.

We are all heroes and villains. In this world where there are innumerable stories crossing paths constantly, those stories are bound to intertwine. Willem DaFoe once said, to paraphrase, that “everyone thinks they’re righteous”. It’s true. To every single person out there, they are the protagonist. They are the ones in the right, seeking to achieve the goals they’ve set for themselves. In that same respect, no one is a hero to everyone. There will always be someone, sometimes more than one person, to whom you are the villain. The antagonist.

Nothing can change that.

All you can do is take comfort in what you consider yourself to be.

As for myself, I wouldn’t say I’m a good man. I’ve done enough wrong that calling myself a good man would make me a liar. By that respect, I am not a bad man either. At least, I don’t think myself to be one. I am, simply, a man. I have flaws and faults, I feel guilt and shame, I have been proud and have fallen victim to pride, and I have felt both joy and despair. And that’s all I have to say about that.

More later, Internet.

Christmas Music Rundown

Just Another Writer — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 19:25:11 +0000

I’m a pretty festive guy. I put up the trees for my family, I put up the wreaths, I occasionally wear a santa hat to amuse people. I’m pretty much, as one of my friends put it, Saint Frankolas. Ho ho ho.

Well, I’m here to say something that you might not agree with. Or if you’re normal, maybe you will. I can’t stand most christmas music. Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer…likely to lead to me up in a clocktower. There is some christmas music I like, though. Top-5 List? Top-5 List.

RUN-DMC – Christmas In Hollis : This one is a bit of a joke, but after Die Hard, it will forever have a place in both my heart and hard drive.

Bing Crosby – It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas : A real classic, and real classy. Nobody does it like Bing did.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra – Christmas Eve / Sarajevo 12/24 : It has a hard, slightly dark sound but this song is Christmas nonetheless.

Straight No Chaser – Who Spiked The Eggnog? : It’s smooth, catchy, and makes you want to sing along. What’s not to like?

Trans-Siberian Orchestra-Christmas Canon Rock : This is one of my absolute favorites. Jennifer Cella’s voice is unmatched, and the song itself is fantastic.

And as a bonus: The Christmas Can-Can.

Welcome to the Christmas Season, internet.

Untitled

Just Another Writer — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 13:23:06 +0000

I’ve come close to breaking a few times in my life. Every once in a while you have too many things thrown at you, and you have things you don’t expect rearing up suddenly. Last night was one of those nights. I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed this morning, not quite sure if it was real or not. It was.

Let me tell you a story, readers. There were two people who loved each other very much. A mediocre looking boy, and a gorgeous, amazing girl. Now, the boy thought that the girl was perfect as she was, with all of her flaws and problems. He thought that maybe, things could work between them as-is. The girl knew better. There were things in her life she’d need to change to make it work, and she wasn’t sure if she could make those changes. She told the boy that they couldn’t be together till that happened. It killed to boy to hear that, especially because he knew that she was right.

So that’s the story of a life on hold. Frozen in time, hopefully to be resumed sometime in months to come. To that special someone: if you’re reading, I love you. I love you, I believe in you, and I will be waiting.

Alcohol and Writing: Redux

Just Another Writer — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 02:34:32 +0000

There’s always been a connection between writers and alcoholism. What that connection is, exactly, is something hotly debated. Is it that alcohol provides a much needed escape, frees the writer’s mind from it’s usual constraints? Or maybe it’s simply a case of monkey see, monkey do; maybe writers just try to emulate the greats that came before them, in the hopes that it will grant them some unnatural writing ability. Perhaps it’s just coincidence, that writers just happen to have a greater tendency to turn to the bottle. I myself have no answer, though I am willing to do a bit of research now and then.

More to come later. I have another post I’ve been meaning to finish.

200 Miles (About)

Just Another Writer — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 05:22:04 +0000

I am in Massachusetts, in The Four Points by Sheridan Hotel. It is 1:00 am. My parents, who I am forced to share a room with, are snoring loudly. I’m watching a show about Swamp Logging. To be very, very honest, I don’t quite want to be here right now. Tomorrow, we’re attending a cousin’s wedding. I wish them the best, but again, not my first choice in “places I could invariably be”. On the other hand, there may be an open bar. So, there’s that at least.
Don’t get me wrong, my family is great; extended family included. There’s something about them, though. They’re…unique. Including, but not limited to, bible thumpers. That’s a story for another day, though. Perhaps tomorrow. Tonight’s story is about a young man. Let’s call him Frank. Now, Frank is a pretty normal guy. He’s content, sure, but not happy. There’s a difference. What’s a man to do? Well, Frank is going to suit up. Okay, not suit up, really. But come tomorrow, Frank will be a slick, smooth, classy son of a bitch. And it will be legen – wait for it… – dary.

The rules have changed. All bets are off. Time to make the best of this, and be fucking awesome.

Back to Writing Aga-OH GOD, IT ITCHES

Just Another Writer — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 22:10:18 +0000

Apparently, I was tracked down and mutilated by the last mosquito of the season. I cannot remember the last time I was this itchy. Oh, and I have the pleasure of being hypersensitive to mosquito bites. If I could eradicate every last mosquito – as in drive them to extinction, never to populate the earth again – I would do it without hesitation. I’m not kidding.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

I’ve gotten around to doing a lot more writing lately, and it feels pretty good. I think that I might have found that spark I lost and that it might stick around for a while. I’ve said this before, but I guess we’ll see soon enough. I have a few projects going at the moment; one is taking much longer than I’d hoped, but two of them should be up by the weekend.

Inspiration

Just Another Writer — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 11:04:20 +0000

It comes and goes. I wrote something a few days of that I was legitimately proud of, and I have something in the works that I feel could be just as good. It’s about half done; maybe less. All I know is that the vital spark is…gone. When I write, words flow from my brain to my fingers. It writes itself. Right now, I’m not feeling that. All I see is a half finished poem that’s going stale in my head. I hate that. I hate when something is going so well, and then it just trails off. I love writing. Writing is something that I need to do; it’s a part of who I am. Losing that ability is the most frightening thing to me.

Woke up early this morning. I always forget how your day seems exponentially longer with each hour you’re awake. Should be a productive day, in some way. Hopefully I manage to finish my writing. For now, it’s me and a pot of coffee. A large pot of coffee. It will be gone by 8 am. Music of choice today? Alestorm. Never underestimate how truly awesome Scottish pirate metal is, especially in the morning.

Later, internet.

Writing Update: Timeless

Just Another Writer — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 18:25:30 +0000

Timeless

Nothing left but wait and see
as time, it tries to bury me,
under the weight of age and ash
just as it has in aeons past.
This is a fight no man can win,
against the ghosts of what has been,
and though we ask, it won’t remit,
so time again we take the hit.

“Timeless” is a nonsense phrase,
from very first to end of days,
all things have felt the sting of time,
even love, spirit and rhyme.
I say this all not to be cruel,
but to provide a vital fuel,
which all life needs to carry on,
for once time strikes, your chance is gone.

Do not live within the past,
or in the unknown future, vast,
live in the present, here and now;
only this will time allow.
And when you’ve used up what it gave,
time will see you to the grave,
and give to you one final gift,
to guide you through a worldly rift.

So live, I beg you, for today;
lest wings of time whisk you away,
and take you to this other place,
to stare into an ancient face.
This wizened face, it will not speak,
but silently this face will seek
to learn how you have played your hand,
and there will be no reprimand.

No berating for a life of waste,
or praise for one whose life was chaste,
it just accepts you as you are,
and will not pry or judge or mar.
You will become one with this being,
never speaking, always seeing,
only knowing uncountable lives,
the thing on which time itself survives.

After the Storm

Just Another Writer — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 00:18:46 +0000

Middle Village, queens has never really been “on the map”. In the past two days, we’ve had more news coverage than, well, ever. New York was hit with two tornadoes on the 16th, rating a 0 and a 1 on the Enhanced Fujita scale. “Minor to moderate damage.”

While my neighborhood missed the tornadoes, we ran into another fun little weather anomaly. It’s called a “macroburst”, and it is worse than an EF1 tornado. As defined by Wikipedia, macrobursts are “a downburst created by a column of sinking air that, after hitting ground level, spreads out in all directions and is capable of producing damaging straight-line winds of over 150 mph, often producing damage similar to, but distinguishable from, that caused by tornadoes.” It’s VERY similar, I can tell you that much.

Might update this with more info or more pictures tomorrow.