Um boss, is this thing on?
Damn. The right side of my brain has been running on FLAT empty the last two weeks. I've sat down a number of times and just stared at the monitor. I've picked up my camera, looked through the view finder and seen... well, nothing.
A wise creative writing professor from a former life once said that writing was like working out. Even when you don't want to, feel like you can't, or are just plain bored -- keep doing it. Sometimes, writing just for writing's sake is enough.
So this is me, sitting with Boris in a partially empty house (Nat packed her stuff and high-tailed it back to the city... that's a story for another day though), not wanting to write and feeling unmotivated to take pictures. Writing for the sake of writing. Taking pictures for the sake of taking pictures. Asking Boris in more way than one: "It's just you and me kid. What side of the bed do you want?"
Comments
You know what they say bro, you got to start somewhere... now, don't go and do like Bukowski, ok?
Beer
I don't know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
"what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can fuck me!"
the female is durable
she lives seven and one half years longer
than the male, and she drinks very little beer
because she knows its bad for the figure.
while we are going mad
they are out
dancing and laughing
with horney cowboys.
well, there's beer
sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles
and when you pick one up
the bottle fall through the wet bottom
of the paper sack
rolling
clanking
spilling gray wet ash
and stale beer,
or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.
in the morning
making the only sound in your life.
beer
rivers and seas of beer
the radio singing love songs
as the phone remains silent
and the walls stand
straight up and down
and beer is all there is.
Posted by: El Guapo | June 14, 2005 02:09 PM
I love this pic and how it makes you seem like such an enigma and yet completely endearing at the same time!
I think your philosophy of continuing on goes for anything one is passionate about. If you keep doing it, even when you don't want to, even when you despise it, you come back to a middle ground. A place where you feel at home again. This process in art is what allows freedom from ourselves with the promise of return. A way to reinvent every so often without too much self-destruction or loathing. Just like one sometimes needs space in a relationship, we need space from our egos sometimes too. Especially when it attaches itself too much to our passions and reasons for living. I don't like to go through the drifting but I'm learning to treat it like a party...sometimes you get Hoegaarden and sometimes you get Pabst, but either way you end up with another story the next day. Just another reminder you are living. As long as I live, I dance. It always comes back to myself and my passions.
Posted by: Mary | June 27, 2005 11:05 PM