July 9 - remembering how to write
July 9
Morning Pages: a ritual I haven’t done in a long while, that I resisted because it’s words not images. Now, words seem like the most perfect place to be, words flow, they take up no space, I feel free. “Words carry the means to meaning and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.”
Finding new words, reading the writing of others its magic. So many things swirling in the flotsam and jetsam and tide coming and going.
The river is muddy but she has been my lover for years. So there it is, a lovely new world to swim in where I can change the scenery with the lick of the pen. That’s a piece of it then, how unwieldy the physical world has become
How blunt the canvas, how unlikely to touch anyone. Sometimes people like my paintings, but they aren’t changing anyone, they are just pretty or mildly interesting or someone admires me for the ability to do it, lately that is the most common –an envy of talent...”I wish I could do that”
So here we are, pretty words, angry words, new words, they are so light and portable, and the world can shift like a chimera in a sentence or two. Witness MK’s book....amazing shifting reality, from what you expect to what unfurls.
Distraction, the red herring it lures me off the path. I am remembering something I saw on the chat board: “the most painful tattoo,” Puff the Magic Dragon, elaborately drawn on some (poor or brave, depending on your viewpoint) soul’s entire pelvis. You can imagine what the puffing dragon was. I was particularly amused by the entrance to hell, pointed out by demons.
OK the dream: in the dream I was in school, in a class, and I kept distracting the professor, and my friend who was like an assistant, with personal questions, until we ate up all the time, and I felt lost regarding the work, and how to proceed, succeed.
Hmmmm – how I am feeling about my professional life – that I have worked hard on the interpersonal, and the personal, but the professional is sadly neglected, and there the demon fears still coil and slither, churning when disturbed with their glittery eyes menacing.
Morning Pages: a ritual I haven’t done in a long while, that I resisted because it’s words not images. Now, words seem like the most perfect place to be, words flow, they take up no space, I feel free. “Words carry the means to meaning and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.”
Finding new words, reading the writing of others its magic. So many things swirling in the flotsam and jetsam and tide coming and going.
The river is muddy but she has been my lover for years. So there it is, a lovely new world to swim in where I can change the scenery with the lick of the pen. That’s a piece of it then, how unwieldy the physical world has become
How blunt the canvas, how unlikely to touch anyone. Sometimes people like my paintings, but they aren’t changing anyone, they are just pretty or mildly interesting or someone admires me for the ability to do it, lately that is the most common –an envy of talent...”I wish I could do that”
So here we are, pretty words, angry words, new words, they are so light and portable, and the world can shift like a chimera in a sentence or two. Witness MK’s book....amazing shifting reality, from what you expect to what unfurls.
Distraction, the red herring it lures me off the path. I am remembering something I saw on the chat board: “the most painful tattoo,” Puff the Magic Dragon, elaborately drawn on some (poor or brave, depending on your viewpoint) soul’s entire pelvis. You can imagine what the puffing dragon was. I was particularly amused by the entrance to hell, pointed out by demons.
OK the dream: in the dream I was in school, in a class, and I kept distracting the professor, and my friend who was like an assistant, with personal questions, until we ate up all the time, and I felt lost regarding the work, and how to proceed, succeed.
Hmmmm – how I am feeling about my professional life – that I have worked hard on the interpersonal, and the personal, but the professional is sadly neglected, and there the demon fears still coil and slither, churning when disturbed with their glittery eyes menacing.
posted by Ven at 4:42 PM
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