outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
Two nights ago, on the verge of sleep and thinking of the deaths in my family, and idea for some sort of story (I suppose) came to me.

When a child dies before their time, the rest of the family's children would also be killed, because if one child was weak, then the rest shared their weakness.

Children were given a choice, however- they could request to be spared, which very few ever chose.

Because it turned out, being spared led to a fate worse than a quick death - former friends would no longer acknowledge the survivor; neither would the child's parents as they tried again to start a family without weakness.

Eventually, the survivor would beg for death. But it was never given.

Kind of dark, even for me. But now, what do I do with this?
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
Oh livejournal, I've neglected you so long.

Happiest of holidays to all my remaining friends here!


Oct. 17th, 2016 01:03 pm
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
My sister's home went on the market in the past few days.

I found out when my brother and sister-in-law linked the listing on Facebook.

I knew it was going to happen at some point, but still ... it caught me off guard.


Apr. 24th, 2016 05:10 pm
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
I've had writer's block for all of 2016. I haven't written a column all year. I've been sending off old ones to the newspaper that they haven't ran before, but I'm out of them now.

I don't know what's wrong. But I'm trying to get over the hump today. I've written a little over 400 words that I don't really like and I keep needing to force myself to go on instead of walking away in disgust. The humor isn't coming out funny; it's coming out mean. And it's the tiniest of a thread of an idea to work from, but it's all I've got.

Honestly though, I feel like I've reached the point where if I don't write a column this month, I won't write one ever again. And I'm not ready to stop yet. I just wish there was more blood in this turnip.

I'm even involving a little whiskey to see if it helps.
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
I've walked away twice, given up completely three times, mentally beat myself up, self-diagnosed Imposter Syndrome uncountable instances ... and I've forced myself back to the keyboard each time. It may not turn out to be very good, but I'm going to write a column, even though it feels almost physically painful. I'm afraid if I don't, I'll never be able to again.

I've managed 342 words so far.

Edit: First draft, 1086 words. I can live with that.


Dec. 20th, 2015 12:26 pm
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
Motivation can be hard to find.

Since returning from the east coast in September, it's been difficult to find motivation to do things. Like writing my monthly column. After my (what I considered) subpar effort in October, I found it impossible to come up with anything worthwhile in November. So there was no column. Now I'm struggling with one for December.

I don't think this is severe depression, but if I weren't on my medication, I think I'd be in trouble. I've reconciled with my sister's death; honestly, given the situation she was in, I truly don't blame her for taking her own life.

Even so ... it's difficult in many ways to accept that now, there's just my brother and myself. He has his own family, of course, and I have the ersatz familial unit I've created for myself as well.

I'm not afraid of dying; I'm afraid of dying before I'm ready. I haven't made my mark yet. I want to be remembered a little. But ... I can't find the energy nor the motivation to make that mark.


Nov. 8th, 2015 09:41 am
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
I haven't posted a lot lately. Sorry. I think I'm still dealing somewhat with my sister's death, the time change, seasonal change, lack of motivation, etc.
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)

I am in Maryland. I have used up all of my roaming celluar data that I didnt know existed. I only have wireless when someone piggybacks me onto their phone.

Funeral 1 is tomorrow. Funeral 2 is Sunday. Considering wherr I am and the circumstances, Id feel like I'm in a country wetsern song, but as Morrisey sang, 'that joke isn't funny anymore.'

Probably because I just realized I'm trapped in a Morrisey song.

outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)

My uncle died last night.


Sep. 11th, 2015 01:06 pm
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)

As the now oldest in our now family of two, I'll need to have something prepared to read at the memorial service.

Problem is, everything I start writing in my head starts turning into a joke.

The jokes are funny, I think ("We've had so many funerals here that according to our punchcard the next one is free!"), but that's probably not appropriate, because few people there will know that my defense mechanism in bad sitiuations is making equally bad jokes.


Sep. 9th, 2015 06:42 pm
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
In the last five years, I've lost over half of my family.
outsdr: (Dalek Longcat)
I've got some thoughts going around and over in my head.

It started when I was thinking about songs that are sung in a foreign language, yet are still able to cause an emotional reaction when I listen to them.

That led to me making this playlist on YouTube.

Some of these songs are also available in English versions, but they don't always make me react the same way: there's this feeling of alieness I experience, like I'm somewhere else in a different world. And yet, the emotions I feel are very much of this world.

I've been thinking of ways that words and poetry cause emotional ressonance, and how (if) sometimes, the meanings of the words can detract from the visceral emotion that is trying to be conveyed.

So how do I work around that?

I keep kicking around the idea in my head of spoken poetry that does not rely on understandable words to present emotion. But there's a hinderence in using a different language - for one, I don't know any other languages, and two, the words still have meaning, even if I do not know exactly what that meaning is, and that is enough to distract.

I keep listening to the playlist over and over (and the ads every other video are pretty damn distracting, too).

I'm thinking that the way for me to approach this is using words that sound real, but aren't. Not in the same sense of Dadaism, even if it was created by my beloved Marcel Duchamp. I'm not trying to do anti-poetry in a deconstructive form through meaningless nonsense presented as art, leaving the viewer to try and determine the seriousness of the artist, as well as the intention.

So while the words will be meaningless, the emotions will not be.

That's part one.

Now, thinking even further, can the emotions of poetry be presented without using any sound at all? Stories can be, of course. (Thank you, Marcel Marseau.) But broken down to just base emotional presentation, can poetry work not only without words, but without sound at all?

Can I do a slam poem without the SLAM?

That's part two.

Part three is even more nebulous. Spoken word with only words. Turned away from the audience. The writer detached from his writing, so the audience has no preconceived notions of what will be presented.

There's a part four bubbling around in there as well, but it's barely even coelesced into even a feeling.

(How can I explore this without ripping of Laurie Anderson?)

I do know that this is not something that's going away. These alien feelings are deeply connected to my experience after surgery last year. Turns out there's even a term for it- "Pumphead". And it's more common and serious than I knew at the time. Not that I really had much of a grasp on what was going on at the time, even after I thought I had recovered.

Maybe that's where the idea of non-existing words come from. Those times when I knew that what I was saying was not matching what I was thinking, and even worse, what I was thinking wasn't matching what was really happening.

I need to explore this.


outsdr: (Default)

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