Saturday, October 16, 2010

...The Right to Write - Exercise...


Initiation Tool
- create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)

Thurs. Sept. 9, 2010 - "Morning Pages" - Day #30 - South Street Seaport, NYC, picnic table...chillin'...writin'...etc.-ing...then train ride home...1/3 of the way to 90...

Starting out to write -- we've discussed this before, insinuating that you, the reader, has participated in these discussions, which is not the case, I'm really referring to my voices in my head discussing pretty much all of what I write...I've talked about that starting point being hard, referring to people in South Street Seaport passing you by as distractions, but really you're just postponing that start...Again, talking to myself most of the time in my writing, when writing "you" I'm talking to myself, remember, walking down the street...Essentially, I'm the distraction, distracting myself from starting...nothing clicks, for what to write, so I put the pen down, twist the ice tea cap and take a sip, almost before finishing the previous one...maybe once my thirst is quenched, I'll be ready to write...But also, maybe not...

...You place the pen to pad, and, shotgun, the race is off, or feels like so, and now you're into a topic, not of your choice, but somehow it just popped in, you don't know how, it's hard to explain to yourself how you come up with your ideas...forget explaining it to others...the race halts, and along with ideas, you have to come up with other distractions and reasons for the writing stopping...put on headphones and maybe a musician has a topic, or distraction...all I really want to do is listen to music anyways...I once wrote, in lyric form, I'm so poetic, I agree...once wrote:

...And while you're off doing that / I'm gonna listen to the music until I go deaf / And after that / You can tell me what's left - to live for...

...The Rolling Stones are talking in my ears...and for some reason, I first wrote "ear's", possessive, apparently making sure everyone knows they're my ears, mine!...The Stones, for now, have provided that topic, that distraction - distraction away from thinking of what to write, and now I'm just writing...We need distractions in our life...Without them we would go insane, caring way too much about the results of everything we do...We all need this, but I'm thinking I especially need distractions - because I'm selfish...and well, I need a distraction from my over-tiredness, I need a distraction away from the fact - I still don't feel completely present...And, writing about this is a great distraction away from thinking about my insomnia, good going, Mick, you picked this topic, I certainly didn't...Sometimes we call them distractions, or maybe me writing is just accepting my mental home, I could always be sleep deprived, and this is me moving on, or tying to...I don't want to ignore the problem to the point it gets worse, but a freckled soul has to get out and live...so yeah, I think it's ok to fill my life with as many distractions as possible...Music has been, and will always be, my go-to distraction...like Mick is singing in Torn & Frayed, "As long as the guitar plays"...

..."Not Yoko" has called me a distraction, I guess one away from the problems and concerns in her life...I wonder what shes uses as a distraction when I become that day's problem...But, last night, we both needed a distraction, or maybe just some entertainment...so we headed out...to the Pete Molinari, and Daniel Wayne concert...check out review here...

...Jotted in Margin: distractions in life, making life easier, or postponing responsibilities...

...

...A train ride home...from today's "Morning Pages"...

...Everybody's tired, holding their breathe, riding a train to a stop where they can rest and exhale...on the ride they observe other riders, looking at their shoes that can tell stories of today's journey, yesterday's happenings, and a person's quest for what they want out of the tomorrows, literally tomorrow, and also years down a road...that man's stroking his beard, combing it now, which, to observers, appears to do nothing, but in his head he knows it does something, and that something is so simple yet can allow someone to go on with their day, more peacefully, possibly...she's got Roses on her lap, and knows somebody still cares...I write, and forget to get off my stop, fuck!...subconsciously remembering 36th Street had snapped and flashed into view, but kept writing and riding...a good thing, somewhat inconvenient, but caught living in the moment...a teacher once told students to hold these moments precise, remind yourself when you catch yourself happy, in the moment with laughter and conversation, or writing, self-conversation, sometimes aloud, walking down the street...

...

Opener: Man life gets insane...clap if you feel like life gets insane sometimes...yeah, life can get insane at times, like especially when you find yourself taking expressions too literally...I caught myself taking the saying "Laughing all the way to the bank" literally...I actually tried that shit...got in the car and started laughing...the bank was 5-7 minutes away...(start laughing)...it's funny...really funny at first...then you start realizing what the hell you're doing...insanity kicks in, but you keep laughing...you're determined...but then start thinking...maybe you should laugh all the way to the insane asylum...

...

...Yeah, life gets insane, like you ever catch yourself calling your mom to tape Oprah...well, Will Smith and Fam are going to be on...a commercial about the farewell season said so, making me day dream about one day being on Oprah, us discussing my new book, which of course includes the middle urinal metaphor, one of Oprah's favorite topics, and metaphors.

...Caught myself missing that stop, caught writing, without thinking, while listening to Ray Lamontagne's song You Are the Best Thing, realizing that's what she is...and maybe we agree, we are both each other's distraction...it's not for good or for bad, just human, and that's what we all need..

...When is the last time you really needed to check the time, forgot what hour you're living in...that's what I'm after...you stare at the clock a lot as an insomniac...you think a lot about food when you're starving...Well, I don't, at least for this moment, know what time it is, and forgot to care that people might be watching me write...and that's today's train ride...

...add to -- everything's a lyric, etc....everything's a train ride...

...We need distractions, otherwise we'd go insane worrying about today's meeting, or tomorrow's physical...it's a metaphoric physical though...you really don't have to turn your head and cough while the Doc cups your balls, you do?...Or, worry about the next day's joke...joke that since you're worrying, you will hear deafening silence, before finishing telling it, worrying too much about results, instead of just living, in the moment...sometimes it just takes a train ride...a few missed stops...for a story...or today's distraction...to get through...

...I caught myself racing still, although more so to the page to get this all down, rather than to nowhere, like before...

...Talking about distractions, I've thought, and I'll do it again!...thought that maybe I use jokes, and toilet metaphors, etc., to distract you away from what I really want to write, or get of my chest (hairy)...I haven't figured that out yet, but believe I'm heading, traveling, getting, there.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

...The Right to Write - Exercise...

Initiation Tool - create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)

Wed. September 8, 2010 - "Morning Pages" - Day #29 - Girlfriend's, feeding cat, trying to take nap...fail...so write...

...Add more pillows for each of my body parts, each muscle, they are rattling, jumping in opposite directions, pulling me nowhere, actually add a straight-jacket...to each muscle...give them sedatives, so they all can live, within my body, someday peacefully...and maybe one day my mind and body can harmonize...sleep writing...

...And, so my girlfriend's at her first day of school, no, she's not a first grader going to her first day of school, she actually teaches first grade, our song separating for more hours this coming fall..but, it'll come back on as we come back together later in the day, nighttime...maybe making us appreciate one another more...learning that maybe the saying's true - "There's always a great woman behind every good man"...but, then again, tell that to the homosexual men that just tied the knot in Massachusetts, "not that there's anything wrong with it" (Seinfeld), forever subscribing to that philosophy, of course...I think that's how the saying goes, I don't memorize them, usually let them go in one ear, out the other, like parental advice too often...I also read once that Louis Armstrong said there is always a white man behind every black man's success (again, check quote at later date)...I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that, and I ain't got the time to dissect, Louis...Louis, I ain't got the time...I think what he meant is that eventually a soul must find a white man to be behind a black man's curtain of glory...Yeah, I agree, I think Louis and I speak a similar language...like Omar Epps, remember?...Now, I've never listened to Louis Armstrong's music, but I give a belated congratulations to him for landing on the moon...what white guy helped him garner that feat?...Well, Louis, I'll see you around the block sometime, you and Jenny (Lopez, from the block)...snoring awake...

Jotted in Margin: Van Morrison's "Joe Harper Saturday Morning" playing...

...I'm writing like I'm a person walking down the street talking to oneself, like a wino, or does it have to be so vulgar?...maybe he's just an insomniac, dreaming, not sleeping, so he's writing, dreaming, sleep-writing, while walking, and others think he's talking to himself...maybe he doesn't need a drink, maybe just a nap...some Zs if you could, please?...

...I don't have time to ask if I'm ok, he says to himself, walking down the street, but would you?...This morning, at 5:30ish AM, I was walking back to my apartment, talking to myself, asking this, that, and a million other things, looking at the still darkness, making it feel like it was another late-night, just arriving home, sobering up, seeing the night turning into day, again...sleep-writing...

...I think about stopping this writing, a pause to go to that expensive gym...which people think I use to get back into physical shape...it's just as much for mental shape though, each sweat, a drop of insanity falling to the floor, and hopefully out of my body, forever...also, hopefully, that guy working out with the fanny-pack and coffee?, hopefully he trips on my sweat-drops, whatever...next thought...next one...onto the next before I can write...the next one...etc. ...

...I think of making lunch first before I go to the gym, it could be sitting there ready when I get back...but, I decide, or whoever's conducting this ship today decided, I'm too tired to make it -- perceived laziness, possibly...I can't make up my mind...think now, that maybe it's God's plan to not have me sleep well, lately, to put me back in that mind state when this sleeping problem was at its worst - so now, I can get it all down...my thought-dreams...but, I'm not looking for a damn message from God, more so, a friend...tell me what you truly think...and does it always have to be over beers...to make us open up...who's conducting today?...

...I take like 5 showers a day, to wake up, so when I do leave the apartment, girlfriend jokes that I never do, I say it's because I'll get sunburned, she says, it's winter, I counter that jab, saying, yeah, but it's windy outside, wind burn, etc. ...take 5 showers per day so when I do go out, I can at least pretend I'm a part of regular society...I try to walk out, go to the gym, but my Moleskine keeps calling me...a whisper in the head, like an alcoholic calling liquid his friend?...

...Lou Reed's singing The Velvet Underground's Beginning to See the Light, and asking, "How does it feel to be loved"?...First, and again, this isn't my corny attempt to insert a song about seeing a light...or, in sequence with my writing, seeing those signs...no, not that attempt...I was really playing this song...this jumping around, or what appears to have been, in my mind at least, I haven't reread this yet...but think I'm jumping around in this writing...the jumping around is just a reflection of what's going on in my mind, can't shut it off, or organize it, sleep deprivation at its best...and worst...making me repeat Lou Reed, "How does it feel to be loved"?...Well, damn good...damn fucking good, and I think I'll call her to make sure she'll be at the Pete Molinari concert tonight...more music, continuing our song...similar to other writers inserting prayers, poems at the beginning of chapters, I like inserting lyrics, they are like prayers...this whole writing thing's a prayer...somebody once told me I don't have a prayer...I think I do now...and all these prayers, or lyrics we read, write, make life just a little bit easier...and so does that love, Lou...and Louis...

...I've organized today's thought-dreams the best way I know how, through writing -- through it...and now it's time to make that call..and leave you with this, a few lines from my song Footprintin'...also known as And Let the Blues...check out the rest here...

...And let the blues become a soundtrack that another lonesome boy steps to / And let my ideas become a path that we will one day walk through / And on the other side see it footprints...