Tuesday, September 11, 2007

11th September 2007

What does it mean for me, mesmerised, walkie talkie signal to my muse returns static.

I often sit here with hands poised over the keys waiting for a subject to talk about. The 30th floor views of the Melbourne skyline do not help. I never understood why they have to place the writer in an idyllic scene, sea views, garden views. What a terrible distraction. Who would put themselves through that? No; you ask an author where they sit and the answer would make a director groan for the blandness of it. J.K Rowling sat in a busy café, Jack Kerouac wrote in a flurry on the road, Bob Dylan would write in a crowded room full of song and conversation. Give me a basement any day. I find the train is a great place to write as well, plenty of inspiration in the people you share the carriage with.

Train Diaries #28;
Happenstance. Bringing forth thought and memory smells. I like those. Time travel for the senses. A wind is not ill, but it can bring memory in its trail. I haven't known a memory triggered by anything so vividly as smell. I have not had one in ages. I have not been caught up in a tornado of memory. Push me a gust wind God. Blow me a scene of my past. Breathe me an event long forgotten. And when I die, lift me up and carry me with the combined force of my past and I will be judged by the distance it takes me. Age 33, will the wind take me to the horizon? ------- So at a surface level I seem to be struggling with what to talk about. When I go blank I begin to doubt I have lived at all. I begin to wonder if you will be at all interested in what I end up writing. I feel like I have almost run out of memories already. What with the years that follow? Doubts aside I think it will be at least in a small way a means to work out where you are coming from, genetically and by nurture. For example you may find you have stomach problems or throat problems. My Dad does and so do I. And nurture is my influence on your personality not to mention my part in your dysfunctions. I am partly accountable for any issues you have carried in to adulthood. Of course now you are an adult you are responsible for what you choose to do about your mental and physical well being. If there are aspects of myself that have rubbed off on you that you don't like then you have to work out what to replace them with. The twist to this is that your parents are going to find it difficult to not put in their two cents for as long as you live. Keeping my opinion to myself is going to be interesting for me. You are damn lucky that I am getting experience at this with Sadie. I congratulate myself on how I have handled her transition to adulthood. Coping with boyfriends and all that.

136 Syllables at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks. Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon. Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch. A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos. At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands. In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades. Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep.
Allen Ginsberg