Harry Belafonte

So the progress continues. Unless I can materialize ten pages of brilliance by Sunday, I likely will not meet my original deadline, but there was a big setback, and a vacation, so a few weeks over should still be better than the prior trajectory of finishing it never. As a bonus, while in San Diego I discovered a dusty album of carribean inspired tunes to help with all things that are made better by talk of cocounut water and rum. (that is a large list). Today I strive to finish entering the pages I wrote at LIB and to polish 19. Wish mw luck Mr. Belafonte.

Anxious

So today, I feel myself pulled in many directions. I frankly don't want to be where I am, but am stuck for the next few hours. The good news is that I think that I will get Jen to drive tonight and resign myself to getting some work done in the the backseat. (writing that is) I am also feeling a bit conflicted about the direction I want to write. Yesterday I sat down to finish the last of chapter 19, for light peppered night, and the only thing I came up with was the start of an outline and character description for the next novel. I am excited for this second novel, as I feel like it may be a lot funnier, but also a big subject and social commentary. I still have to finish number one though.

It somewhat scares me, to think that these characters will simply have no future after I stop writing it, and I can see that influencing this intense procrastination that prevents me from finishing it. Life Mr. Green put it in The Fault Is in Our Stars, when asked what happened to the tulip man and the mother after the end of the book, his answer was an emphatic "NOTHING." They cease to exist.

I have a certain stewardship of these people I have written, the universe that I created, and that was a large part in the reasoning behind my rescinding an entire chapter. In 18, I did something that the entire book was driven toward, and once done, found that it was horrible, and just too tragic. So I took it back. Although I like the new chapter, I am concerned that I may not be able to make to book memorable without the crash boom bang!

We shall see, but I think the next chapter shall have music.

should have been published, not saved 5/14

So I had to do it.

I have been making a hard push to finish my novel, The Light Peppered Night (working title). A recent trip away from the density of life and work in Phoenix allowed me a chance to complete all but the last four chapters, the first of which is now half done as well. 


The further along I go, the more I deeply care about these characters, and their struggles. I hope that is a good sign. The end is in sight for my first work, and I find myself missing them already, knowing that their journey will end on the last page. 


This has been a difficult book for me. I set out to tackle some large subjects. The topics are not light; death and grief, identity and self, science vs mysticism. Perhaps with all works of creativity, our characters teach us much about ourselves in the process. I am proud of what I have accomplished so far, and I think in the end it will stand on its own. That is, at least, the hope. 


I have come to a difficult point. There is one path, one culmination of probabilities as Edward would say, and the future for my characters has solidified and been all but set in stone (if not in paper). I say the following because I need to say it for myself, and perhaps cryptically enough that should any wayfarer stumble upon this tiny and insignificant un-followed blog, it shall not destroy the beauty which I attempted to create. 








There was only this way for it to end, never another. And to you and you alone, I am sorry. Forgive me.

Blah Blah Blah ---- backspace

Work has consumed my creative energies this week. The best I could come up with was a few lines of dribble that I immediately deleted. I will have to restart on Saturday. On the plus side, hoola hooping has proven to be at least a distraction that can exercise that often underutilized portion of my brain that would be activated by sports, etc. I haven't used it much since ballroom dancing. 

Its back. 

Addendum to earlier scowl

And then I noticed a curious thing. Right there, between two slabs of ordinary concrete and landlocked by a sea of asphalt comprised by layers of sticky paste from long dead plants and animals and aggregate, against all our pitiful efforts, two spars little sprigs of green, reminding me to remember nature has the long view. How irrelevant we are.

Damn Protestant work ethic!

I don't know why it is I take performance of a corporate entity so personally. It is not healthy, I feel that, but at the end of the day, I feel guilty and they call that ownership. But ownership comes with control and a return on your investment. Does the old ethic even apply when you are a salary stooge? With no control of my corporate destiny beyond that which a rat exerts over an oceanliner?

Or perhaps it was just a hard day.

January 2

So despite the arbitrary calendar date selected to signify a point of reflection, it is, and therefore one does. December is gone, good or bad, and with a year behind that seems incredible when I think on it, and sadly left unfinished, when I count all of the things that I did not do, or see, or taste, etc. 

I find myself for the first time in my life, overwhelmed, with the number of wonderful, caring, and loving individuals who, inexplicably, find me fascinating or interesting enough to be desirous in their company. I find this amazing. For some time now I have been of the mind that I was not an easy person to get along, which I do not find reason to dispute, which means that either humanity has become more tolerant, I have become more adroit at finding tolerant or at least likewise belligerent people, or I have made some successes in honing my behaviors to be less offensive. I would like to believe all three of these things are true. Suffice to say, that regardless of the reason behind this sudden up swell in friends, I consider myself to be very lucky.

The year was a good one for travel [Tuscon, Coachella, London, Paris, Stonehenge, Caerphilly] for projects [Tardis, writing, etc] for people, and by extension inspiration. I find myself so energized by all of these things that it should probably not be surprising that I have (despite December's distractions, amiable as they may be) have recommenced writing on this January evening. I find myself hesitant to label myself as always, but author, or perhaps creator is a title or descriptor I am becoming more comfortable with. 

To this I owe much thanks to some of these wonderful people who have enhanced my happiness in the last year. I consider myself to be very lucky to possess such a smattering of diverse personalities and differentiated strengths to lean against, and perhaps most of all to be living in an age where digital forms of communication allow me to balance time with people and remain connected despite my hermitty habits.  I will never tire of saying "Thank god for Google Calendar" and then be instantly amused by where I put the capitalization. 

It has also been an exceptional year for music, and I think back to the bewilderment I once had sitting in a certain English class at the wild and sometimes incomprehensible passion a certain teacher had for such a myriad of musical selections. Sometimes it takes a strong personality playing "This monkey has gone to heaven" for 2 hours until you just get it. I think that there is a lesson there that I have never forgotten, and only part of it is the magic that music has. Genuine magic.

It was also a tragic year in some ways, with a dear friend lost, but with valuable lessons there as well. I learned to never stop doing what you love, and not to waste breath on unhappiness; I will perhaps spend a lifetime trying to practice those learnings. I am comforted by the nonlinear nature of time, which perhaps is the best comfort, and also most macabre concept. All time exists at once, only our perception changes. All those wonderful times are still there, (as a the bad ones), and worse yet, all the things to come exist already. You are alive, and dead, like Schrodinger's poor feline, and ours is but to try to be more like the Tralfamadorians of slaughterhouse 5, and think mostly on the good times. For that at least I am well equipped, because there are a lot of good times.