THIS Rhett Butler Will Never Die

seems that a lot of the time when i feel urged to blog it is because i have complaints on my mind. and then i go quiet and you don’t hear anything from me for awhile. well, usually during those quiet times i DON’T have anything to complain about and things are going pretty well. does that make you think i am a born complainer and only write or phone if there is a problem? maybe. maybe not. i don’t know. i mean, i could complain now, about something, but that is not how i am feeling. or experiencing life right now. am i at peace? well, i actually think that i am pretty much at peace a lot of, or all the time. my own kind of peace and satisfaction with my lot. at least i am more at peace as more time passes, or so it seems. the things i complained about last time i blogged, i’m over, for now. i do have a concern this week. the profundity of deaths of 50 year old men in the news. it’s foolish to think that big names in the news can set trends, unless you are superstitious. but the de...

i’m here again. wanting to be a writer. wanting to be THE writer i’ve always been meant to be. feeling the urge. feeling the push. feeling the birth. pulling all the old ideas together into a mass of tissue that wants to breath and walk amongst others that can see what i mean. a coalescence, a formation, a tantamount expression of all the mysteries that i’ve whined about during this lifetime, this deathtime, this passage into the other. so i’ve recently, accidentally, though that’s not possibly true, made a connection with someone that i genuinely consider to be one of my favorite writers of all time. a beautiful woman, just a little younger than i am that specializes in writing young adult fiction. and i’ve earned a bit of an audience from her; by that, i mean that i’ve spoken out to her and she has responded to me. she has a busy life full of people; i’m not saying i think there is anyway that i’ll become a member of her clan, but i foresee the possibility of getting to meet her in...

strange thing happened today. on the spur of the moment i decided to leave the house with my laptop. at first thought that i would just go to the dublin library because it is a place that i have worked at before, with little distraction. but for some reason i decided to drive by my old starbuttz and see if there by chance was a table open for me to use. and there was! i walked right in and was able to obtain my normal table with a cushioned bench. i guess the nice weather is driving people outside. and that was at 1pm when i got here. it’s now 3pm and the place is more full. i guess i lucked out. the thing floating around in the back of my mind to do here is pull my writing back out of it’s trunk. my current writing project is my nanowrimo novel from last november.  i’m into the next chapter now, something i haven’t even looked at since april. it is really awful writing. and there is so much that can be edited out. not sure how i’m going to decide what to do with it. i want to ke...

do you have 10,000 of something that you’ve created? i have 9,980 things i’ve created. and they are all in one place where they can be experienced. that number changes daily though. it’s increasing. and i don’t put junk there either. every one of those 9,980 things are creative expressions that go through my personal standards of quality. that’s the way art is, isn’t it? the artist is the ultimate judge. i’ve created art before that i’ve hated. or at least felt such a rage of emotions stir up inside of me that i couldn’t stand to look at it. (this instance was during a drawing class i participated in for only two sessions when i lived in Mendocino back in 1980. and because of what happened there i will never take a drawing or painting class again, the self revelation was so powerful it frightened me.) i ended up burning the things i drew. well, and then i pissed on the ashes. i produce a lot of photographs. because it is easy for me to. if i could write as easily as i can photograph ...

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wondering tonight if i should abandon all faith in people as companions and go the way of Jesus. the dude had to be the loneliest person that has ever lived, yet he is reputed to have been the one guy that believed in everyone he met to the utmost. did his loneliness sting? was there room in his heart for it to hurt? was he entirely clueless that people didn’t dig him? is that the way to make it through this world? believe the best in everyone despite what they reflect back to you? if you can’t have a good conversation with yourself who else is going to listen…? and that time on the cross… was he smiling on the inside? because he still believed the best in everyone? despite the fact that everyone abandoned him? i think that is what i will start doing. yet, by myself. you can’t be a friend to someone in the real world that doesn’t have time for you. in my mind though, i can adore someone to the utmost and they can’t do anything to stop me. ok, now i feel at peace.

hienoinen muutos tapahtuu, ja olen alkanut sulkea oma avata oviaukkojen ja psyykkinen tutustua ihmisiin. Olen ollut tunne valtava valua energian, fyysinen ja emotionaalinen äskettäin, ja ainoa asia, että on järkevää minulle on se, että olen pakotettu avaamaan kanavia osaksi minun psyyke on menetelmä saada ystäviä minulle. se vain ei toimi, yrittäen saada ihmiset haluavat olla ystäväsi. on olemassa kaksi ihmistä lähellä pintaa elämästäni, että olen sulkemalla kaikki pääsy välittömästi. ei keskustelua, ei enempää sähköpostit, ei tekstitystä, ei enempää kerjäämässä ne viettää aikaa minun kanssani. että se on periaatteessa mitä se tulee alas. Tässä vaiheessa en välitä, jos en koskaan kuule niitä uudelleen. online Olen Oikaisujen liikaa. kaikki paikalliset ihmiset, jotka liittyvät lukion menin, että i Lisätään ystävät kohtaavat kirjojen Olen poistettavaksi. jos et puhu minulle, et saa lukea minulle. se menee syvemmälle though. Uskon, että on olemassa todellinen porttikäytävä, joka on aloi...