i'm beguiled, maybe a little bewitched too...

i watched this film again this afternoon. perfect rainy Saturday afternoon fare. only problem is that it is such powerful fodder for maturing the infestation of my already smoldering fire of soul-discontent. this was probably the 6th time i've seen this film in the past 6 months. from earlier posts, you may recall that i felt this film offers inspiration for the current phase of the novel i am writing. seeing it again today felt like a flashback to November when i was entrenched in the nanowrimo fury.

but today new emotions were stirred, different takes on old wounds were flared. i'm not a misogynistic spirited man, normally, but lately feelings of distrust, loathing, regret, and disdain for the workings of the female wiles upon men have been curdling under my skin. the one thing that has happened in my own life recently is the ways that women feel no concern about making men wait for them.

the only real interaction i have with female people in the real world, be it online or in person is around my photography project. the only time i spend with females physically is when they allow me to photograph them. and i'm not counting inconsequential interactions at the grocery store, or talking on the phone with an operator, or passing a woman driver on the road. i am always kind. and i spend more time with women than i do men. there is no activity in my life that causes me to be in the company of men.

today the emotions about all of this are intense though, and i can only attest it to this super full moon that we are experiencing tonight. probably a stupid excuse/explanation, but i feel especially lonesome and ired today.

in particular, i've been spending a lot of time recently waiting for women to respond to my creative beckons. scheduling models is a huge waiting game. it bothers me just having to wait until people are ready to call or set a date. weeks and months go by waiting for some of these models to make up their minds and choose when they feel like shooting. some are decent communicators, but the majority are not good communicators.

its probably because the pace of my lifestyle is so out of sync with the rest of the world. people have jobs. people go to college. people do both. people have relationships. people sleep. people lose interest. people forget. me, i sit here and wait for a good day when people will phone and say they are ready to spend 3 hours working with me. or when people will return an email with a couple of paragraphs of ideas about what they want to do in a shoot with me. or they answer questions that i ask.

being respected like a teacher you like, or a boss that you respect, or a friend that you enjoy being around. those people you don't leave waiting. you don't ignore. you don't forget. and the problem probably comes down to the fact that i have too much free time on my hands and that i don't use the free time that i have better.

for instance, if i were meditating for 30 minutes a day like i used to do back in the decade of the 90s. my mind would be much quieter. my senses would be more under control. but i'd be a bit of a bore too because when i used to meditate so much i funneled all of my energy into worshiping god and all i wanted to do was spend time in the ashram chanting, cooking, and cleaning up someone else's house.

but, when i meditated i acted more directly. the mind is sharper and does not waste time over thinking things. one is more apt to get things done when they meditate. i think, at least. but if i were meditating now, i think i would see my days in better perspective. i would have a better intuitive sense about what the people i'm connected to are doing, what they want/need from me, what it is i want/need from them. it could help me communicate more clearly with people. it would help me not waste so much mental energy on tasks that lead me into tailspins. something to consider, although i doubt very much that i will actually start to meditate again.

what i would consider doing is using my writing as a meditation, again. i have become slovenly about writing, yet again. the desire to write poetry died. it was so strong there for about 3 months, it was churning inside me and i screwed up because i thought, once again, that i had to have "a teacher" who would give me permission to write. guidance. instruction. and an arena to be heard in. why, oh why, do i, lord of the lonely continue to fall into this trap of thinking that i need other people to be able to do the things that my heart is yearning to do? who knows what it will take, or how long it will be until i become able to feel the rumblings of poetry inside my heart again?

and am i really going to sit back and wait until November before i open up the pages of my "work in progress novel" again? why do i think that is ok??? why am i so afraid of this story??? well, i know why i'm afraid of writing it. because it's a fucking beast of depression and it scares the living shit out of me when i let it breath inside of me. the months when i get to funnel my creative energy into the making of images, with the models that i work with, is a bit of respite from the pains of this story.

seeing The Beguiled again today took me back inside to where my story is though. it flipped open the cover of the trunk filled with scattered pages i have already typed and let it's spirit float out. and it felt good, in a devilish way. to feel the waves of despair waft back into my room from the emotional darkness of my story, it felt good in an obsessive "darko" kind of way. being like that though, so focused into that dark hole takes me further and further away from the world where living beings walk and breath and speak to one another in the flesh. it takes me deeper into my cave where i only see the world that i create, and can only communicate mentally and spiritually with the beings that i allow to live there. i see no one of flesh there.

there was a film on The Chiller station the other night called "The Girl Next Door", adapted by a short story written by Jack Ketchum. i am not a big fan of Ketchum's writing, partly because he is notorious for writing evil and despicable horror stories. i may have only attempted to read one story of his, many, many years ago and had to put it down because it disturbed me so badly. i got sucked in by this film adaptation though but could only watch it for about 30 minutes. two things struck me. first, that Ketchum thought up this story, and wrote it. second, that a film crew made a movie of the story. i'm on the verge of tears right now just flashing back to the memory of what this story entails. it's so cruel. BUT, if he could write THAT, why can't i write my dark idea out. huh?

so back to The Beguiled and how it feels like my life. i am enchanted by femininity. hell, if we were given the opportunity to ask God for a do-over and we could have a heavenly sex change mid-life, i'd take him up on it. i'd rather be in the position of powerfulness that women have over men, than continue to be in this position of powerlessness under the governance of their realm.

i'll never be able to explain all of these ideas and emotions i have about this matter until i write out my novel. that's what it's going to take. and i really have to start living with an attitude that my story is important. that my message is worth hearing. that is an important reason for spending the time and dedication to finish what i started. i've got nothing better to do with my time, right?