Sunday, April 06, 2014

Plea to the Ether

 I would very much like to have the freedom to write completely openly and honestly. I rarely feel that I do. I'm trapped in a conundrum of fear based etiquette, banished to a realm of faux sentiment and complete absence of timely reactions, joy based sarcasm, and conversation. I cannot sustain that here without.....
Without judgement from friends, ex wives, ex band mates, hack musicians, ex anythings. I want a free wheeling place where my opinions and my openness to reciprocate the scant comments that land in this little space of mine can thrive , can grow like weeds in a sick swamp of thoughts, rather than a battle of pulling on/up roots that ends up being a constant exercise in my workout with the written word. Exhausted.

Words are my one true companion, yet they fail me more often than not because of my unwillingness to fully embrace them out of fear. Fear of the stress that comes from their backlash. Fear of the stress of my own expectations and progress as a writer The stress makes me tired. When I'm tired, I cannot write. I didn't flex that muscle enough in my youth to make it rote, make it memorable, make it easy. I cannot write when the feeling hits, as I did in my youth furiously scribbling in composition books in basement bars and backs of cars.. pre- internet, formulating the "self" that I know, love and loathe.

Like right at this second as I escaped to my room to sneak in this post in before the like- clockwork interruption of my seven year old in a never ending plea for attention...I knew it would come. There's nobody here but Dad. Nobody to distract him, to hand him off to so I can have 20 minutes to my fucking self to speedily and without proper editing....write this post....to myself. Can't write on the weeks he's with me. I'm walking tired then sleepwalking through notes that cannot connect  in an oft failed post bedtime attempt to fucking write anything of interest.

 It Is Never Going To Happen.

 Onward to non substantial Sunday sunny day fathering . The sun is out and those fucking sirens a block away and the neediness of children have derailed this train.

I'm out.

16 comments:

  1. love it! i follow quite a few well written "mom blogs". i use quotes because they are writers and artists like you and I desperately seeking an outlet, a moment to themselves a purpose other than parenthood. i have often craved to hear a father's voice out there in the land of mommy's...thank you for the brief but honest perspective!

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  2. Kids are innocent bystanders to my moods and rants. It does not make them immune to the fodder expressed on these pages. I only have one and want very much not to fuck it up. But sometimes I lose the momentum of a thriving mood (in the midst of having to whip up some non monotonous kid activity that I can sink my teeth in without becoming victim to my own attention span) and the words evaporate into an already bungled up memory.
    I may have lost 100 or so posts by now because by the time I find them in the deep chasms of my corroded thoughts, they have co mingled with too much kids stuff to be warranted relevant or timely to be presented here.
    But "here" is part of the problem. I could probably mine for the motivation somehow...if the audience was clamoring for this. But most of them are too busy taking care of their kids to have any time to connect with one man with a limited run of opinions on obscure bands and elderly statesmen of rock behaving badly.

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  3. keep trying or start dying, what else is there?

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  4. Seano: Don't be so hard on yourself. Kids take up a lot of time and energy, but they DO sleep sometimes, and then you can let your real self out here. Just relax and DO IT, try not to overthink it too much, and who cares what people think? GET IT SAID.
    I've written three 200-page "e-books" since last August, all pretty personal, and some of the stuff in them has gotten me bashed by ex-friends, old supervisors, old lovers. And I don't care much. Maybe it's all bullshit, but at least I got the stuff written and I'm not laying on my death bed croaking out "I coulda been a contenda...."
    At this point, who cares? Let it all out if it's gotta get said. And believe me, YOU'LL FEEL BETTER....

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  5. Definitely a good writer. That's what is all about music.

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  6. this article is very meaningful , about the free wheeling place where the opinions and the openness.
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  7. Fear of the stress of my own expectations and progress as a writer The stress makes me tired.

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  8. Just continue writing, it's the best!

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  9. writing for oneself is a kind of relief

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  10. Expressing yourself will de-stress you.

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