Four young men stand in the middle of a snowy nowhere. A nine-year-old boy walks in the room. Green carpet and a red brick fireplace host a couch, a chair, and the television showing the men singing. “I will be with you again,” the man says. A piano can be detected amidst the guitar and drums. “With you again.” Mesmerized, the boy stands, stops and watches. He is not sure where his mother is or if she can hear him. In just a few short years, he will purchase his first cassette tape and it will be an album by this band. For now, he watches the footage on the screen. He watches different scenes of the same four young men in the snow; walking, singing, the music penetrating his mind.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
A new chapter
My offline book got a new Chapter recently. Like, two weeks ago recently.
This is the book that I'm spending some serious time on -- or, I have spent more time on it than my blog book...or, blovel?
The new chapter is simply a couple of sentences, a long paragraph. But, it is words on paper. And that's very important when you are allegedly a writer. It is chapter 15 in this work. And now, characters and scenes dance in my head again.
I see the insides of buildings. I feel the touch of hands on a wall. I see feet taking the stairs. Sometimes ... many times ... I can feel the touch against my face, the whisper in my ear. Getting lost in the books in my head is so real, so intense, so emotionally draining. So much so that at times I cannot stand being actually touched. The art of real conversation with another being becomes too much. And then, I go further into my head, into my characters.
And then, they are out. On the page. Dancing.
And then I need it. To be touched. To be held. To talk to a REAL person. And talk and talk and talk. But not about the words I've written. No. Never. That's a totally separate part of my mind. And if you ask me to go there, you'll lose my presence in the moment with you. So don't.
This is the book that I'm spending some serious time on -- or, I have spent more time on it than my blog book...or, blovel?
The new chapter is simply a couple of sentences, a long paragraph. But, it is words on paper. And that's very important when you are allegedly a writer. It is chapter 15 in this work. And now, characters and scenes dance in my head again.
I see the insides of buildings. I feel the touch of hands on a wall. I see feet taking the stairs. Sometimes ... many times ... I can feel the touch against my face, the whisper in my ear. Getting lost in the books in my head is so real, so intense, so emotionally draining. So much so that at times I cannot stand being actually touched. The art of real conversation with another being becomes too much. And then, I go further into my head, into my characters.
And then, they are out. On the page. Dancing.
And then I need it. To be touched. To be held. To talk to a REAL person. And talk and talk and talk. But not about the words I've written. No. Never. That's a totally separate part of my mind. And if you ask me to go there, you'll lose my presence in the moment with you. So don't.
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