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Wordsmithing blues.

the stories feel like crap grotesque fairy tales… like it isn’t worthy of the effort, but the question of benefit lingers somewhere… i feel the urge to keep going, as though my efforts will be rewarded, but then i begin to wonder if that is my intuition or a false assumption?… one of the most difficult factors i face, as i have mentioned before, is trying to flesh out my characters… faced with the realization that they cannot be one-dimensional to portray a human ideal of perfection, but then i suddenly recall my affectation with esoteric forms of philosophical exploration, we all vary in scope with humanity and the affection for diversity… in layperson terminology, some of us are still animals in act and thought, some of us are the equivalent of alien consciousness and empirical intellect and still another group of people are more in tune with the emotional front… thus my characters can run the gamut as long as i keep in mind this equation of traits, real or unreal in my hands, and may be able to finish more stories before death comes for me… recently i sat in awe of the way Allen Ginsburg came to fruition with the publication/ reading of his seminal work ‘Howl’, and it was through the medium of cinema in a moment of clarity and cherry-eating that parts of this person’s life were opened up before my eyes in a way that touched me deeply, and i realized that he stated very bold truths throughout the film that honestly made me consider the reality of what i choose to do Here… i do write as though my freedom were compromised on all levels but this one portal at my fingertips, there are shameless attempts to provoke a reaction from any kind of audience that will make the effort to read my work, and i have heard from close sources that some of my best “work” consists of these momentary diatribes of non-fiction… sometimes you might call it ‘prosetry’ in a way of containing the contradiction in action, the mind boils fervent energy like water in a kettle, and what leaks from the interaction of living substance is a caustic expression of what it takes to be real Here… these are the distracting qualities of the human experience, all three worlds collide inside of us, and sometimes there is no room for all three at once even as the moments whose impact we feel most are when all three “awarenesses” are aligned and actively in transition… we distort what we perceive to be able to view a better picture of what appears there, we take control to new levels of ostracism and isolation of people between each other, and wonder why something doesn’t work out the way we planned it… that being that desires is not deficit necessarily of what it craves, but we are conscious through all layers of reality, which affects the overall flow in this cyclic chain of events to which our lives are pieces whether we understand this or not matters only to us… capable i am of handling these duties along with a working life, and the creative life floats just parallel to this one where the emotional and intellectual capacities are situated firmly, the cells divide and conquer the next news of bodily procrastination… a pause before the stutter as a whole cavalcade rides out of my mind’s eye, and flourishes where there was only blank space prior to writing a world into existence Here, my goals may be a little vague even as the intent never relents to see the visions manifested more fully than merely a conceptual affair more in line with being a communion of sorts between creator and created… still i wait…

Thanks, khet.