Writing Practice – 6/1/2018

Pen is running dry…

I like to watch the progress of the ink level in the barrel as I go along. Slow and steady it is, but it keeps going. The more I write, the less I have left to go until it’s all gone. Like footsteps, paradoxically, the more I write, the more evidence there is that I was here. The more pen on the page, means less pen ink in the tube.

I wonder if the people who made this pen thought about how it would be used. For grocery lists or for calculus homework. For taking notes in a quarterly divisional meeting at a large multi-national corporation, or for making doodles on the side of a notepad while waiting for the doctor.

The possibilities inside this pen are endless. There are whole worlds, whole universes, to be set free. Inside this plastic cylinder are dragons and demons and fairies and magic. Inside are robots and hyper drives and a new ansible and a Crucible. Inside are epic poems and haikus. Inside is a resignation letter from the President, alongside and mingling with the phone number scrawled on the back of my hand at that bar last week.

These things are all in there. They’re all potentials. misspellings and transgressions, sleights of hands and phurns of trase. Malapropism. Aproprisms. Run-on sentences. Adverbs. The month of September, and how it smells like sheep ready for shearing, how it feels like the ground is turning its own nose up at the change of seasons. Inside is a butterfly, dancing merrily on the edge of my shoulder, its delicate leg somehow caught in the uneven weave of my shirt, fluttering and flapping to try and escape, yet still entwined with me, so that I have time to take out my camera and snap a selfie, two, three, four, five, before I watch if finally leave, and take off and leave me wanting more once again.

It is a desert, and Antarctica, and Pluto, and Polaris, and protons, and Protease, and protein, and prescriptions and purses and pennywhistles and Pennywise, all in one. It is the large infinitely large and the small infinitely small together – mashed, waiting, uncertain as to whether it will manifest on the paper as power or pusillanimousness. The possibilities are infinite, a regular [unclear] Pen of the word, an infinite universe of quantum potentialities which do not coalesce condense collapse into one until I set pen to paper and become, in this world, the almighty.

Writing Practice – 3/27/2018

(Today’ s writing practice session did not begin with a prompt. I simply started to write.)

To start a writing practice session, I always do two things, though not always in the same order. I review the Rules for Writing Practice – keep your hand moving, don’t think, don’t get logical, lose control, go for the jugular. And I imagine myself inside my own brain, a flat bottom and a half-oblong dome above me, grey, and I have a paint roller in my hand. I dip it into a bucket of white paint and use that to cover the inside of my a brain with whiteness, blankness, cleanness, renewal, readiness for the experience of writing. Once all of the surface has been covered, strip, strip, along the bottom – working my way from the middle, next, next, next, out to the edge, along a Mohawk strip on the top, next, next, clear around to the curve to the edge, when it meets the floor, painting, covering, all in white a canvas, in preparation.

Then I am ready to write. To burn through to first thoughts. To offer myself to my Muse, wherever he is that day, if He will choose to show up or not, if he will deign to stoop down and place a soft, reassuring touch on my shoulder, if he will whisper, warm, tickling breath in my ear, “Yes, go, get that, follow that thought, chase it, don’t let it escape, pursue, continue, persist, never, ever, ever let go, find it, fight it, kill it, master it, turn it, transform it, tame it, succumb it to your power, to your authority, to your will, do not relent, do not release, do not avoid when the subject turns delicate, or embarrassing, or insecure, for you are to know that you are the one in control, you are the one from whom all these blessings flow, you are the god in this world, this world you have created, this universe at the tip of your pen, you are the Alpha and the Omega, what you bring about here shall live in mythology and archaeology and your subjects’ anthropologies for as long as they exist, for you are a deity far above all others, you have the power to build up, to tear down, to keep, to preserve, to destroy, to eliminate, to mould and fashion and to remake and to evolve, you are the thing in this world that all other things are subject to, and so therefore with such great authority comes great responsibility, an awareness of self, an introspection of your power, your ability, your authority, and your standing in this world, that world, that experience, you have power and authority, yes, so choose wisely, choose judiciously, make with circumspection and introspection and valor and virtue, for what you make, what you destroy, what you build and what you tear down become your legacy, your history, to the universe above you, the god who sits judging you for your godhood shall weigh your actions, your perseverance, your perversity or magnanimity and he, she it, they too shall judge, with the same measure as which you used to judge, so take care, be wise, be well, and do good work.”

Love is (4 of 10)

Love is the separation of duty from voluntary action. Love is choice. Love is looking at another and saying “I choose you.” Not just “I do this because I must” or “Because I cannot see any other way to live my life right now.” Love is “I make time for you.” Love is “I give up for you.” Love is sacrifice. Love is voluntarism in action. Love is discipline, and care and concern. Love is truth and justice at once. Love is to see the good and seek out the bad. To observe, not ignore. not to justify, either, those things which are wrong – but to admit the wrongness – to realize the wrongness – to acknowledge the deficiency and to wait for it. Love is to send one’s heart into the abyss, not knowing whether it will return, but whether or not it does is not the issue. The issue is the sending out – the excessing – the exuding – the extruding – of the things which once held us back and yet now free us to greater exploration of self.

Love is inspiration. Love is adoration. Love is trepidation and apprehension. Love is to hope and fear; to hope for good, to fear that same good. For how unlikely is it that both the good and the bad do not come together? For so much good that there is, must not there also be bad, poor, miscontent, malcontent, to balance it out?

Love is balance. Love is peace. Love is trust and it is distrust and it is jealousy and it is protection and it is determination and it is absolution of the wrongs and penance for the sights. Love is trust; love is jealously. Love is to see your lover in the arms of another and want to end your own life at the thought of missing out on that touch. Love is determination. Perspiration. Inspiration and to believe that there will be better to come, because of love, despite love, in response to love, as a result of love. As a result of fear. As a result of impropriety and reconciliation, as a result of recognition and reparations.

Love is there. It is here. It fills and drains. It empties itself of all thought. It consumes, it subsumes, it burdens and relieves from all burden. Love is these things and more. And nothing at all. Love shall keep us alive. And it shall kill us – take us – eliminate us – remove us – it makes us. Love is degenerative, destructive. Supportive and stringent and supplicant. Love is the way we relate to the non-animals, the un-beasts of this world. The lower forms – the ox and ass and centipede and lichen – they react to the world. Stimulus – response. Action – reaction. They are not loving creatures. They cannot determine that separation between must and can. I can do this for you. I must do that for some other reason. Only one is love. The other may be devotion. It may be duty. It may be appreciation. But it is not love. Love is a choice – an all-encompassing, an enforcing, an engaging, an enraging choice. Love is a choice, and one which we will do well not to take lightly. For those who disregard love’s strength find themselves burdened – struck down – incapacitated under the weight. The weight of a hundred elephants standing end to end, pressing down on your chest. Suffocating, sterilizing, purifying. Beware – beware of love – give it not lightly. Receive it not lightly. Do both at your own peril.