POEMS/ PROSE/ PICTURES
I hadn't written anything in well over a year; hadn't even noticed how sad it made me. No written creation. I think the (…guitar…) strings were moving occasionally enough to keep things in place. There were no reasons anywhere; I couldn't find any reasons. So in a way it was born from nothing. It came from a loss. And it took hold of a darkness. It was like a darkness I listened to but never acted upon. I dared not ignore it but carried on regardless, against it. Each piece within the book was created before March 31st 2011 and it came to be via 'accident'/ by accident; I didn't plan it and/or it wasn't my plan. It was an unconscious reflex against lethargy, against the misconception of time being wasted, against pain and boredom and against feeling like nothing matters, against accepting it for what it is without question…"rage, rage against the dying…". The book could be called "An Attempted Kick Up The Arse of Depression"… because looking back that is what it was. The debut album 'The Hermit's Waltz' couldn't dance and couldn't be played. An inability to work is a heavy burden to carry. Choice is a fine thing. A long period of stasis was permeating sanity but the will, thankfully is insatiable. Stacked in a pile in cardboard boxes, gathering dust and lying dormant were my notebooks and diaries and pads full of words from the time before. Maybe these were waiting words, I don't know but I had a notion to document. It started with a simple Word Document and typing what I read, whatever it was into the computer. Then the next piece and the next until I was hungry or thirsty or I was cold the night had arrived and my physical body demanded things. Revived and re-reading made me feel good and my creative writing work again began. I believe that the physical act of typing helped my brain release itself from the block. I was typing my words but you can type anyone's word or mind and earn and in the process you'll learn to break the block; you can't not, you can't help it.
POEMS/ PROSE/ PICTURES