Raw: An ongoing work of... art? Brainstorming Part 1

Just for the record I've gone ahead and added some of my own notes as I did my nightly transcribing from the notebook to the screen, so when you see something like [this] [know that it is just me adding commentary. At the end I do a little wrap up called... Wrap Up: Trying to make sense of it all... yeah, good luck with that one.]

11/30 approx. 3am
Once again I can’t sleep, I have to get up in five hours and run for at least a mile to prove to myself I can, then I have to more work; guess I’m on borrowed time right now.
Did I ever tell you about my pirate-ninja dream? It was pretty epic. That’s the weird things about dreams; most people claim they can’t remember them, until come the ones they really can, then someone gets hung out to dry.
Too many thoughts, can’t slow them down enough to grasp a single one.
[Here things are finally starting to come together and I can begin to glimpse a cohesive whole, so I’ve snipped some things that are simply not ready to be revealed. Author’s rights of course. ;-P]
11/30 approx 11am
So I ran a mile one point five, maybe, tops. It was less then I wanted but exactly what I expected. I could have gone harder, but what was the reason I wanted to?
Now I’ll enjoy the day while waiting to get out on the water
…just filter up through all the bullshit till it’s like oh yeah? This is what I have forgot.
…everyone’s got their own demons trying hard to eat them up… if winter never ends will you ever see my spring?
If this is all we have is there nothing left to bring?
…everybody’s dreaming we’re all just in different states of waking up… Tell “Kirk” to bring us cigarettes please, and tell him I’ll reimburse; it’s just one more barter/trade example spun in different verse…and why is it you always have something with you; you don’t need and why is it you never bring it with you when you do?
[snip snip]
… just want to throw myself outside the window and let myself feel left alive; anything must be better than the dead I feel inside… So I’ll run and I’ll smoke, I’ll quit and I’ll choke, live this life of self destruction long enough to… to…
I spent the better half of the day barefoot, trying to get back to my roots… because the world’s so misaligned that we spend all our time staring back at space, and never seeing much
[snippity. Here’s a tease, structure and form for… FnLinLO]
…and finally after a chaotic morning I’m on the boat again still just trying to figure out from where the water it all began…
…you’re exactly what I’ve always wanted, but never really got; the point just keeps repeating—the world and it’s whole entire lot is ground beef mixed up, jumbled, scrambled and forgot.
[snip, some notes on how I would restructure and begin to edit this process tonight that you don’t need to see.]
…I can destroy my feet I can destroy my knees; I can destroy my legs all the way through to my hip; but it’ll never prove because it is the one connection that we missed; and I realize it’s just life’s wavelengths struggling to coexist
A Writer’s Daily Checklist
-hats are sacred, never lose a fucking hat
-sunglasses are always good
-a plethora of cigarettes to always have on hand for you to smoke.
-water, water, water
-run two miles at 6.a.m.
-kayak, live, and
-WRITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. And somewhere along the way… die.

…and I take a toast for ocean sorrowing, morose I whisper, ever succinctly spoken regret; ‘Yeah, Ocean… here’s to that’ and quickly flick my cigarette over starboard to the ocean now begat. Forgive me ocean, I want to whisper, please forgive me that… and I realize it’s just the artist’s dilemma universally begot / he arrives before his time arrives and is just as quick, as he is, as is, forgot.
11/30 approx. 4pm Good bye to November
…it is going to be rough working with me tonight.
-and I found myself in water lounging making time come stand and be forgot
-it’s the entire ninja-pirate complex that is so quickly all forgot we all are either, either neither are, they all are or they are not?


[WRAP UP: Trying to make sense of it all: whew… that’s not even the half of everything I got written today, I think it’s suffice to say that I almost have enough brainstormed material to start coming up with something a little more cohesive. Which, even though it has only just begun, would mean the end of Raw: an ongoing work of… art? Well, at least it is bound to at a certain point eventually, become less Raw and will have moved up to whatever it is that comes next, Almost Prepared maybe? (I could use a catchy jingle here wordsmiths, if you are reading ;-P), Anyway, I’m not going to devote anymore time to brainstorming ideas tonight, because, truth be told, we could spend our entire lifetimes brainstorming and never get anywhere but a whole bunch of good ideas. It’s easy to get caught up and overwhelmed. I have some ideas for how I’d like to transform what you’ve been following over the last couple days into a story, I’m going to be letting those ideas percolate over the next couple of days, in the meantime we’ll ride out the brainstorm process a bit more and let you linger over just how extremely grotesque it is in the beginning of the arts. See you tomorrow for Raw: An ongoing work of... art? Brainstorming, part 2... oh did someone mention audio clips? ;-P]

Leave me something.

-AiG.

Introducing Raw: An ungoing work of. . . art?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen you heard that right, tonight on AiGtv we are introducing Raw: an ungoing work of. . . art? "What is this titillating and tantalizing tale," you ask? Or rather, roll your eyes and try to forget my horrible usage of grammar.

Ahem,

What I mean to say is, I thought my grace period was over, but apparently it had ideas all it's own of becoming something so much more. It came to me as the lamenting died: three day's grace is just not enough. No, this was destined for something more. This was rallied to be a muse. And as long as this muse is alive I feel compelled to ride it out.

I know whoever still bothers to read this is probably thinking "okay, okay, enough of this angsty-emo shit already!" To that I say... loud and clear, I HEAR YOU!

But a muse is a muse and when it speaks an artist moves. It takes you through trees and takes you through climbs, it speaks through your limbs, your brain becomes vines...

It's pretty scary some of the things it tells me to do, but like all jobs, we just gotta suck it up and do what we're told. My apologies to all those out there that don't want to hear it.

Raw: An ungoing work of. . . art?
11/29

...So you'll swallow me up / you'll eat me whole / cuz it's the whole damn world that's spiraling violently out of control / you'll break me apart and see right under my skin, you'll stitch me up, put me right under your chin, just to let me drop and do it over again... and all of this is just me screaming through the throng, that I really need a family, or just some place I can belong...

...I am nothing, without meaning, I am something, I am something lack'd / just how much self loathing must I sift through to find that hidden latch?

This is my final cry... there isn't anything that I can do just holler away at nothing wishing that I can come home to you...
This is my final cry the last few things that I have to do / before I fall away from this world with you...
This is my final cry the very last thing I'll say before...

And that's okay maybe I'll just get mislabeled more and ride this wave until it's collapse, where earth and sky meet water to gently lapse her shore.

This is my final cry the very last thing that I'll say before I lie / just get me outta here there's too much room in this head, there's so much living going on around me I just might as well be dead...

You told me not to hide / so I'll just keep on stupid screaming hoping they say I never lied... at least until this spark has died...
But I gotta keep on writing as long as this muse is still alive / I'm gonna look obsessive, but thats a label I have to ride / either that or crawl back under the rock where first I lied.

...Throwing all our money out the window just to be pissed off we're here...

...black obsidian the world's most negative force...

...and I realize I have become my cat; or is it he has become me? when all he's doing is stupid screaming for having been left behind; I needed a muse and I found it in you... and you, and you andyouandyouandyou... and me.

-to be concluded-

Now, if I still have you after all that, all of you are really to be commended. So what is Raw? Okay, here's my idea: Raw is all this mindless drivel my brain has been concocting over the last several days. Raw will be whatever mindless drivel my brain concocts over the course of well, however long it decides to concoct.

You see that's the beauty of it, all this angsty emo crap I've got on here is the rawest ingredients for a work of... art? I don't know, maybe I could call it art. Certainly it is set with the aspirations of art, but that all remains yet to be seen.

The whole point, I'm making is that with Raw, I'm going to be showing you the readers exactly how someone takes his angsty, emo, and abstract drivel and turns it into something more.

I'll show you my progress as I sift and restructure this crap to make a song, or a story, or a poem, or anything. I don't even know what it is yet, let alone have any idea what it could be. I first have to know what it is...

And when I do figure out exactly what [this] is you can all be damn sure you'll hear it here first on Raw: An ungoing work of. . . art?

Fear and Loathing near Los Olas...

Admittedly things have been a little moody and brooding over here the last several days. Well, The three day grace period is over so I can't keep wallowing for myself. I do however, humbly, ask that you deal with it for one more day as I post the drivel my mind cooked up yesterday. I'm leaving everything unedited again, raw and rough around the edges, because well... I'm feeling a little raw and rough around the edges myself.

The Last One Month
So the last month to you, you were sitting and blue, you were stuck in the ground, you didn’t know your way around, and the last month to you It was all that we knew you were stuck and confused, and the last month to me wasn’t quite sweet(quite that way sweet but it was) it was great, it wasn’t beat, the last month to you was all that we knew, with everyone shelved up with regret and confused, and I’m sorry to say it came to be this way, I’m sorry to say, I never knew you, anyway.
And the last month to you was just a drowned out scream, the last month to me was a short lived, fleeting dream, I just want to say, sorry that it went down this way.
So the last month to you was hollow and used and everything showed up eventually.
The last month to you was hollow and blue
the last month to me I held hallow’d and new,
and the last month to you haunts in your memory
like a drowning scream
and the last month to me I held too closely
like trying to grasp the waking dream
While the last month to me,
was a good month to be,
by your side.
While the last month to you,
after the bullshit problems and struggles
everything died.


...and I see another cycle like in the way that things began; to the that they are ending / ending in our hands; and words they seem so fleeting; so easily forgot; upside down and all around; a mixed up jumbled lot; said and said and just as easily dismissed; the words and feelings just keep running, run the entire gamut.


...you have to grow, to spread your leaves and fly; otherwise you will be stunted and poignantly maligned; you'll find yourself ne'er growing, and to be predestinely-declined, those friendships ever going; are so delicate entwined; that those things are ever fleeting and fade before the mind / can ever make sense of the truth...


"I know what she means... but I don't know what I said..."


...too many thoughts are still a reeling and the glories they all fade; a distant safe word never spoken and the habitually inlaid; why is it my mind is only spoken when my thoughts of sense cannot be made? I guess it's a product of devolving... or forever growing?

Fort Liquorhell... dreamily going from the last best thing to the next worse thing waiting for that real thing that doesn't really live. People just keep going giving, given, take, get, and 'gin. No one really knows just what they're doing not until the end; when everything in life was realized and the next phase can begin.
-fin-

Maybe someday, I'll be able to make sense of all this myself.

Black Friday

Another sleepless time last night, words scrolled past my tongue, but every time I tossed and turned I failed to catch a single one. The morning comes so slow and cold, the memories and words once spoken I am trying hard now not to hold, but the thought that keeps on circling is that everything's gone wrong. If I could first correct the world, perhaps then I could write this song, but I can't even find my own meaning, I am stumblingly behind. I guess I cannot really fault you, only hope one day you'll change your mind...

---

I don't know what's up with all the rhyming lately, I keep trying to break away from it with my writing and keep finding myself only capable of communicating in this flowing rhyme and meter style. It's been a bit aggravating. Anyone else ever find themselves getting stuck in a certain style even after it feels long played out?

Thanksgiving Grace

Thanksgiving Grace: An accountable tale of one nothing’s Thanksgiving. Pre-edit.
[The following text was written at various points throughout the course of the day of 11/26/09 They appear before you unabridged and unedited as transcribed directly from the block of wood upon which they had been painstakingly carved]
Dear (G/(g))od,
I am the scum beneath the earth/ the world beneath your feet/ the mysterious stranger in the night, that you wish you could meet/ I am the sun, the sea/ the sky and clouds/ I am the evil underneath/ I am the feeling, I am the pain/ I am the cold November light/ I am your heart’s desire, but your mind’s already took flight/ I am everything and nothing, I am nothing, not at all/ the only reason I’m still going is that I continue still to fall./ I am standing here and screaming you are waiting for me to disappear/ I am everything and nothing/ I am nothing if not here. And I’ll just keep on falling/ falling till the world will clear…
….And now I’m watching the rain come in/ drowned, out wasted/ where did time begin?/ Buzzards circle something dead again/ and the voices blur into the background/ and I find myself alone in my own head/ again, it’s empty ,wasted, drowned dead/ Found myself self loathing and hating all I’ve done/ Such is life it bears repeating/ before they end cycles must first have been begun…
…And someone talks my ear off/ and I connect it’s just life’s cycle epitome’d again/ and everything worth loving is fleeting/ and the bad things never end/ and my thoughts and focus just go reeling/ and I remember things begin/ and everything will end.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Thanks for the tough year.

P.S.
And we will always haunt each other/haunt and not come back/ because human mechanics won’t allow our universe to work just quite like that…
…Lot’s more talking and I hear… what? What… do… I… hear?
……………..turned out to be a pool pump…
P.S.S
And an unexpected blessing from you makes me think I won’t be sharing this at all/ who wants to hear a nothing screams before he falls?...
…and simplest connections are laid when I realize it is not my lighter that I’ve been hording, nor is it my friend I made.

We were founded on a nation of slackers is it any wonder we all seek only to destroy ourselves? And we are heading for a war.
…And it’s freebird I relate to on the water once again and it’s just another dying cycle/ things have ended/ things begin.
…Silly City gal and City-Country Guy, always looking ahead or looking behind, but to what’s around us we are blind.
…Dude what are you doing over there with that knife?/ I’m trying to sharpen a pencil… in the dark… with a knife… so I can write… in the dark… with a pencil.
…And as I pass you by, U2 starts playing “With or Without You” So I crane my neck to catch a glimpse, or perhaps to even say “hi”/ instead my eyes see nothing and my lips whisper a soft goodbye
…So I spent the day at long, lost pondering, my heart’s thoughts a mess when I come home late at last/ to realize I should be thankful, thankful stones were even cast.

If Adam were a Serpent

I guess I'll just go away and fade back into my place beneath the rocks. Where coldness and loneliness combine with warmth and happiness to make a picture perfect, empty hollow gray and turns blind eyes away from the light of day where they cannot see it is their own venom upon which they feed. Poison for poison's sake to drown that throbbing, aching need. I guess I'll just slither back and fade away, leave you alone, fall back to when we both thought we were okay, a time when things were simpler didn't worry about the way... With problems numbed behind our empty cups and the world a distant haze, the voices they don't scream so loud, they blur amongst the days, the loneliness is so much easier with an empty, hollow head and everything is so much simpler when your drowned out, gone, or dead.

Untitled

It is the resolve to want to be together, despite the fear of contact with another, a desire to push through the ambiguous loneliness, and be something more. A willingness to hurt and be hurt, to love and be loved, and all the joys and sorrows that come along with it. It is the want to feel alive; to peek out from under our rocks and find out that maybe, maybe sometime's life just isn't as complicated as we all make it out to be. Maybe some things good really do just come our way when we least expect it. The key is to see it before it passes by, and knowing when to hold on.