Okay fine. So I wrote a song. I wasn't going to post it, but now I will, because I have nothing else to post, and I'm a total comment whore. So kill me. Anyways, hopefully this song will evolve into having a tune as well as lyrics, but right now it only has lyrics. Like every other song I've ever written. Woohoo. So, I'm hoping that once this has a tune, the FAIL can use it, because we really need an original song. Without further ado...
She’s walking in front of me
She’s wearing a scarf
A red, red scarf in the sun
It’s shimmering now
Shimmering and reflecting the light
Of my flashlight
My flashlight shines in the sun
They die now
They’re dying and rotting and sweating
Sweating and swelling in the sun
This is what the world is for
Shimmering and walking
And swelling and smelling
This is the world now, in the sun
She’s slipping away from me
She’s wearing a scarf
A red, red scarf in the sun
It’s vanishing now
Shimmering and vanishing
In the light of the sun
They’re falling now
Falling on their arms and legs
Breaking and falling
Falling in the sun
This is what the world is for
Shimmering and vanishing
And breaking and falling
This is the world now, in the sun
She’s running away from me
She’s wearing a scarf
A red, red scarf in the sun
It’s floating now
Floating and sweeping away
The grins of her enemies
Her enemies die now, in the sun
In the sun, her enemies die
Sweating and swelling and dying
All in the sun
This is what the world is for
This is what the world is for
Running and floating
Sweating and swelling
Falling and dying
All in the sun
Yeah, so don't ask me what this song means. I don't know. It just exists. Anyways, I also realized that the picture I put as my profile pic on this blog looks really warped here, even though it doesn't anywhere else. I don't know what's going on there. Alright, I'm peacing out now. Bye.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Mediocrity
I have an unending admiration for poets who can avoid cliches at all costs. I think the problem with me is that I have only a few topics to write about, never having suffered much in life. But here is an example of a poet who has taken a topic that is so cliche and that every poet has written about at least once, and has incorporated it into her poem in a completely original and profound way. In her poem, "Wanting to Die", Anne Sexton describes suicide, a completely overused topic, in a way that really made me think about it. She says:
But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.
I'm going to take a risk here and assume that all of you who read this blog either already know this about me, or don't care, but as someone who has in the past struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts, I can relate to Anne Sexton so much here. She described beautifully the exact struggle that people who are contemplating suicide go through. It's never about why, it's about how, where, when. But I could never have described this feeling in such an achingly simple way that causes the reader to have a brief glimpse into Sexton's manic-depressive mind. In case you don't know, she did commit suicide a few years later. So obviously it does help that these were actually her thoughts.
But here is another example on the same topic. Sylvia Plath (who incidentally also committed suicide, soon after writing the following poem) wrote a poem called Lady Lazarus. There isn't a particular line that strikes me, it's more the whole poem. You can read it here:
http://www.palace.net/~llama/poetry/ladylaz
It may help to know when reading this poem that she wrote this before her third (successful) attempt at suicide, so that is what she is referring to with the numbers in the poem.
Anyways, I love the way that she uses rythm (sp?) in this poem to lull the reader into a kind of nursery-rhyme like feeling, even though the meaning of the poem is actually quite disturbing. Again, I love the simplicity and complexity of this poem. The meaning is hidden behind complex metaphors, but the poem is not flowery or pretentious.
I think that's really the key to being a successful poet, and it's what I haven't learned yet: how to truly write about the self, but at the same time make it about someone else, and how to avoid cliches like the plague. As much as I try, I can't help falling between the cracks of those dreaded cliches sometimes. I suppose it's because I don't have so much life experience, so I try to draw upon other people's. Probably has something to do with my age, but I'm too stubborn to admit it.
But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.
I'm going to take a risk here and assume that all of you who read this blog either already know this about me, or don't care, but as someone who has in the past struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts, I can relate to Anne Sexton so much here. She described beautifully the exact struggle that people who are contemplating suicide go through. It's never about why, it's about how, where, when. But I could never have described this feeling in such an achingly simple way that causes the reader to have a brief glimpse into Sexton's manic-depressive mind. In case you don't know, she did commit suicide a few years later. So obviously it does help that these were actually her thoughts.
But here is another example on the same topic. Sylvia Plath (who incidentally also committed suicide, soon after writing the following poem) wrote a poem called Lady Lazarus. There isn't a particular line that strikes me, it's more the whole poem. You can read it here:
http://www.palace.net/~llama/poetry/ladylaz
It may help to know when reading this poem that she wrote this before her third (successful) attempt at suicide, so that is what she is referring to with the numbers in the poem.
Anyways, I love the way that she uses rythm (sp?) in this poem to lull the reader into a kind of nursery-rhyme like feeling, even though the meaning of the poem is actually quite disturbing. Again, I love the simplicity and complexity of this poem. The meaning is hidden behind complex metaphors, but the poem is not flowery or pretentious.
I think that's really the key to being a successful poet, and it's what I haven't learned yet: how to truly write about the self, but at the same time make it about someone else, and how to avoid cliches like the plague. As much as I try, I can't help falling between the cracks of those dreaded cliches sometimes. I suppose it's because I don't have so much life experience, so I try to draw upon other people's. Probably has something to do with my age, but I'm too stubborn to admit it.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Monologue
So I wrote a monologue. Not for fun, but for English, because I no longer have time to write for fun. Yes, it's a sad world we live in. Or I live in. Whatever. Anyways, obviously I like this better when it's performed, but as I don't actually want to post a video of myself performing it, I'm giving you the text. We were supposed to write about a controversy, which I didn't quite do, but I'm pretty happy with the result. Obviously there's a lot of things in here that I put in to convey that it was a believable character speaking, but it looks really annoying in writing, so ignore the "like"'s and the "you know"'s. Without further ado, here it is...
You know that famous poet? Kabir? Yeah, he inspired me a lot. He’s Indian, I think, but there’s a lot of different stories about how he was born, and where he was born and stuff. Some people think he was Muslim, but other people think he was like, rejected from Islam or something. Anyways, he says in one of his poems, something like “The Self forgets itself.” That really hits me, you know? I feel like he really knew what he was talking about. Like, we keep wandering around like we’re the most important people ever, but in reality, we don’t matter at all. Like, people halfway across the world couldn’t care less about us, you know what I’m saying? But we forget that. “The Self forgets itself.” Yeah, he knew.
And what really gets me, you know, is that everything he said, it’s true. And that’s not really the amazing part. What’s amazing is that it’s true after all this time. Isn’t that kinda crazy? Like, how did he know all the way back then, that the world would still have the same problems now? And this guy was like, back in the 15th century or something! I’m telling you, it’s incredible stuff.
It really bugs me, this whole thing about everyone thinking they’re so important. It’s like, shut up, you know? You aren’t important, I’m not important, nobody cares about us, so stop being so full of yourself! They do these experiments, you know, called stuff like “Six Degrees of Separation”. But it isn’t true. I mean, sure, it might be true that we all know each other through six degrees of separation, but who cares?
In the long run, who cares if we are connected to someone through someone else? We’re just so full of ourselves that we don’t get that the world isn’t about us, you know? Like, it’s like the way we’re seeing it is: (draws a circle in the air) here’s the world, (points to self), and here’s ourselves. That’s the ratio in our heads. That’s how small the world is to us. But everyone else’s lives don’t revolve around how they’re connected to us…
I didn’t used to think this, you know. It didn’t used to bother me that I only thought of myself, because at one point in time, it was every man for himself. But I hate that now. I realized, you know? I realized that it doesn’t work. Because I care about other people, you care about other people, we all care, and if we didn’t, well damn, that would suck. I tried to follow that, every man for himself, but it didn’t work out all that well.
(chokes a little on the words) Because you know, when my grandma died, I cared. I couldn’t help it, I cared. It wasn’t some sob story, like she got cancer, or had a heart attack. It was just old age. And I wasn’t someone who couldn’t let it go, or couldn’t ever be happy again, but I cared. And it showed me something, because people change, you know?
So I never would have realized that it wasn’t about the self, and it wasn’t about me, and it wasn’t about someone else either. I mean, people are gonna cringe when I say this, but what it’s about, what it’s really about, is all of us. Can you imagine if I had just kept on being my cold, heartless old self, who only cared about my own success, my own failure? But people change. And thank God for that, that people change.
You know that famous poet? Kabir? Yeah, he inspired me a lot. He’s Indian, I think, but there’s a lot of different stories about how he was born, and where he was born and stuff. Some people think he was Muslim, but other people think he was like, rejected from Islam or something. Anyways, he says in one of his poems, something like “The Self forgets itself.” That really hits me, you know? I feel like he really knew what he was talking about. Like, we keep wandering around like we’re the most important people ever, but in reality, we don’t matter at all. Like, people halfway across the world couldn’t care less about us, you know what I’m saying? But we forget that. “The Self forgets itself.” Yeah, he knew.
And what really gets me, you know, is that everything he said, it’s true. And that’s not really the amazing part. What’s amazing is that it’s true after all this time. Isn’t that kinda crazy? Like, how did he know all the way back then, that the world would still have the same problems now? And this guy was like, back in the 15th century or something! I’m telling you, it’s incredible stuff.
It really bugs me, this whole thing about everyone thinking they’re so important. It’s like, shut up, you know? You aren’t important, I’m not important, nobody cares about us, so stop being so full of yourself! They do these experiments, you know, called stuff like “Six Degrees of Separation”. But it isn’t true. I mean, sure, it might be true that we all know each other through six degrees of separation, but who cares?
In the long run, who cares if we are connected to someone through someone else? We’re just so full of ourselves that we don’t get that the world isn’t about us, you know? Like, it’s like the way we’re seeing it is: (draws a circle in the air) here’s the world, (points to self), and here’s ourselves. That’s the ratio in our heads. That’s how small the world is to us. But everyone else’s lives don’t revolve around how they’re connected to us…
I didn’t used to think this, you know. It didn’t used to bother me that I only thought of myself, because at one point in time, it was every man for himself. But I hate that now. I realized, you know? I realized that it doesn’t work. Because I care about other people, you care about other people, we all care, and if we didn’t, well damn, that would suck. I tried to follow that, every man for himself, but it didn’t work out all that well.
(chokes a little on the words) Because you know, when my grandma died, I cared. I couldn’t help it, I cared. It wasn’t some sob story, like she got cancer, or had a heart attack. It was just old age. And I wasn’t someone who couldn’t let it go, or couldn’t ever be happy again, but I cared. And it showed me something, because people change, you know?
So I never would have realized that it wasn’t about the self, and it wasn’t about me, and it wasn’t about someone else either. I mean, people are gonna cringe when I say this, but what it’s about, what it’s really about, is all of us. Can you imagine if I had just kept on being my cold, heartless old self, who only cared about my own success, my own failure? But people change. And thank God for that, that people change.
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