Writer's Blog 1/28

Quelling ADD can be as simple sometimes as being able to focus on someones eyes as they talk. The way they scan and focus, light up or dim away in context with what their saying--the way the forhead scrunches and swells, cheeks puffing up like balloons or relaxing the face lengthwise, the chin stretching from side to side--the way hands like to clammer about in the air, toes tapping, legs twisting and stretching... Words can materialize themselves through body language (unless the muscles are frozen).

Poetry words=body language of the universe?

The abstract border where words and emotions meet?

The interweaving of fibers of physical quality with fibers of emotional quality in a way that allows the recreation of the experience on a subtler, more subconscious level of another persons psyche?

The invocation of an emotion through even the most seemingly mundane events depicted (and at the most, the invocation of an emotion through the most spectacularly intense events as well)?

A way to sketch a scene clear enough to have form but ambiguous enough to lack set/objective definition?



Maybe this is one of the many things which would remain better undefined.



Todays news, past tense

Its the Afghan Militia, armed to the teeth, our soldiers delivered their guns on time, gave proper training, we're waiting for them to kill each other--or what's left of us.

Because lava engulfed Alaska
Fire and water swallowed California

And Florida

And the Tokyo hospitals were so full injured victims were turned away

To their deaths.


Attention

We need flying Mynah birds like in Huxley's Island constantly chirping us to pay attention, to remember that we are not where we were yesterday nor have we yet reached where we may be in the sea of potential tomorrows but in the now, even if in the now just means stuck in a messy room with dull walls brightened only by the sun hitting the perfect angle in the sky to pour its warm stream of light through the small window, the faint smell of burnt green goodness lingering in the air. Poetry/lyrical depictions in fiction remind one of small but important details such as this, reminds one not to leave 'now' empty with distracted thoughts. These details reside in the present, not just as something that will serve as a pleasant memory later but as something meant to be a pleasant experience now because even in the most dull boring time there are still things around worth noting, whether they be pleasant or ugly or plain, that--like poetry--can remind one what existence is about, in a way that may be happy or sad or simply observant but is always immersed in the surrounding, aware both of the hard uncomfortable seat under ones ass and the lovely reflections of light glimmering off hair that's fallen into the warmed face, of both the startling loud noise of the train blowing its harsh horn, the sweet soft burbling of water in a nearby stream, and the in between noise of leaves rustling and crackling as a squirrel darts through.