This really isn’t anything. Just a few thoughts on my writing and what I can and can’t do.
Or maybe it’s not what I can’t do but what I have immense trouble with. I really wish that I could write poems about love and other such things. I have tried it. But what I write either comes out somewhat cryptic or emotions perceived through something else, like a jumping spider. The other thing that happens is that I stare at a blank page for 4 hours.
I’ve been reading Leonard Cohen’s poems and I just wish I could write like that. About those subjects. I am perfectly able to write about surreal things, dragons and other assorted oddities.But with feelings, emotions and human things I can get stuck. And now I’m just wondering why.
I’m guessing some of it comes from shyness. Having never been great, on any level at expressing myself and how I feel about others. Strangely though I am perfectly fine with telling a jumping spider its adorable. In theory it makes sense that a shy person would have trouble writing about how they feel.
Or perhaps it’s because I am just starting out writing about such things. It takes awhile to get things right. But still, approaching love and other such things fills me with more trepidation than anything else. The poem I wrote, For Someone took what amounted to 3 or 4 nights staying up till 3 – 4 in the morning and running edits up until 11:20 – 11:35 of the day it went up on the blog. On the other hand a piece about a city made of moths took about half an hour to an hour, from the image in my head to the words on the page. But at one point For Someone and later on Just Want to See Her Face would never have seen the page so I suppose that’s progress. Though actually looking back, the short poem Cafe may have been my first foray into this.
Or maybe I’m just suited to writing other things. Thanks to a childhood of Godzilla films…and Harryhousen films…and other monster/sci-fi/fantasy films…and hours upon hours of pokemon…and a healthy exposure to abstraction…and odd books it’s entirely possible that my brain has been conditioned to think of dragons and monsters and other bits of nonsense more easily than anything else. Because despite the fact that I am a mature individual (somewhat) inside of me beats the heart of a ten-year old boy who still gets excited by Godzilla blowing up a tower block. And quite possibly, people like that are not pre – disposed to writing about love and things like that.
But I’ll keep at it. It’s the only way to get better. But not right now. My skeletal gaucho is taking up my attention right now. But it would be fun write something like this:
Video uploaded by tranquilatus.