Archive for October, 2016


Keeping it simple

October 10, 2016

The amount of time I spend tangled in my own thoughts feels kind of insane at times. I’m sure it’s like this for everyone, isn’t it? The spirals of late night anguish coupled with an incessant need to rehash and rewrite every conversation I’ve had since I was nine?
Even when I’m not trying to confound myself with my ability to consider scenarios that defy reason and gravity, much less reality, I concoct convoluted plots involving complicated characters that no one is ever going to want to read about. That’s my justification for not actually writing them out fully, anyway.

Perhaps it’s a mechanism. I’m giving much though to mechanisms, particularly the ones we remain unaware of, yet give in to so readily.  For instance, if there is something I’d like to do, but it requires me to step outside my comfort zone, often I’ll wait. I’ll bide my time and the deadline passes and suddenly the decision is made for me. It’s too late. Then I console myself with, I never really wanted to so it’s okay.
Or if I’m nervous about something to the point where I don’t want to do it, but feel like I should, I’ll spend a lot of time complaining about it to friends until someone finally gives me permission not to do it. But coming to that decision on my own? The responsibility of it feels overwhelming sometimes. Honestly I’m not sure why, it’s quite simple.
“Do you want to do this?”

Sometimes it stems from not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. Sometimes it’s just plain fear that I’m going to fuck something up. Responsibility is a tough one. I struggle with it, maybe everyone does. Maybe I’m not a special snowflake.

How ironic that I’m on the verge of overcomplicating this post. It started as a response to the fact that I haven’t written anything in a few days, immediately after issuing myself a daily writing prompt challenge. I intended to keep going, but got hung up on a thing I started writing about brain chemistry and the pleasure centres of the brain. It was very interesting (of course my brain would think that), and I was attempting to incorporate a large amount of phrases and terms in such a way that they were easily to comprehend within the context, and rhymed. It got really tough.
Hedonic hotspots and parabrachial nucleus of the pons don’t easily lend themselves to a rhyme scheme that might make sense.
Platonic crockpots and bilabial usurious longjohns just suggests a philosopher making soup that tastes unreasonable with both lips in his underwear.

How common it seems to me, to willfully overcomplicate things, perhaps in an effort to self-sabotage or make myself seem more clever when I work out how to surmount the obstacle, which likely didn’t exist except in my mind’s fearful eye.
There is always the possibility that this is an oversimplification as well. Perhaps I’m not giving existence credit for being all fancy and complex. Truth is somewhere in the middle, while I dance on the periphery, convincing myself I can see the whole picture. Even while acknowledging I have a limited perspective. I never claimed to be sensible, though I do like to get splishy splashy in the waters of reason from time to time.

At any rate, as a result of my inability to cleverly and cohesively make whimsy and rhyme out of tech terms and science, I gave up. I walked away rather than shift my perspective to something more reasonable. I bet that happens a lot, all over the place, not just to me. Because sometimes reasonable means work, and being stuck, frustrated and giving up seems easier in the moment. But how long can one live with that decision (or non-decision) before they realize it was a mistake and hopefully take the steps necessary to amend?
In this instance? 4 days. That might not seem long, and it’s not, especially when considering I’m merely speaking of a poem about happy brain-ness. However, the very fact that I came back to it suggests that the habit of giving up and trying something completely different, rather than attempting the same writing from a different angle, might not be as ingrained as I’d thought. Which allows me to believe that other habits, also considered entrenched or at least well rooted, have the potential to be left behind or adapted to a saner, simpler perspective.
It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.

October 6 #temporary bliss

Every time she walked into his line of sight, his brain felt like a chemistry experiment gone crazy. Hedonic hotspots all over the place started to jump, jive and wail. Suddenly drunk on dopaminergic input, it was as though his mind was PeeWee’s playhouse and the word of the day had just been whispered in it’s ear.
He knew it wouldn’t last, but then, what does?


October 7 #soulshine

“Do you think there is a way to shine up a soul?”
“What? That’s crazy. Shine the top of a shoe, sure. But the bottom? Who’s going to see the bottom?”
“No, not the sole, I meant….nevermind.”



October 5; playing catch up

October 6, 2016
A good writer friend has issued daily writing prompts for the month of October. I was cheating a bit, starting two days late, coming up with one liners, very low commitment. Though I am trying to be better at brevity and so terseness is welcome, it’s good to strike a balance. So I’ll catch up to the current date and do my best to finish the rest of the month here.
October 1 #blackout poetry
I won’t do it. I won’t do blackout poetry.
I can’t take away the work of some,
to sum up a sentiment I sought
Especially from a book borrowed, not bought
Call me greedy, indeedy you may
but I want all the words to stay.
October 2 #sudden changes
“You just never know,” she said, staring out into the middle distance, as though the answer lay somewhere on the horizon and was even now heading toward them along the twists and turns of the dusty dirt road.
“That is true.” He nodded his agreement while speaking it. “Honestly, I did not see that coming.”

October 3 #midnight sun

I shine brightest when you reach for me in the middle of the night.


October 4 #naked kisses

With one touch of his lips, he stripped her bare.

October 5 #smiles and daydream
The first time he woke up beside her,
the sleepy curve of her lips
a balance
between subtle seduction and unapologetic delight,
made him think he must still be asleep,
Because the waking world seemed too mundane for
Beauty like hers.
But he’d be damned if he was going to risk pinching himself.

October 4

October 5, 2016

Trapped between the place of sleeping and thought, I’m stuck here.
Nothing cohesive enough to allow for solace
And nothing resembling calm enough to carry me away from consciousness.

Over and over
the record spins and I’m caught without a comprehensive sense of rhythm.

Late night revolutions
The only ghosts I’m fighting are the habits I won’t let die.
A reckoning of sorts, out of sorts
And left,
and wondering what would have happened if I’d told the story from a different perspective,
Knowing the only one I can ever offer is my own.
Even this feels inaccurate,
as though I’m paying lip service to an insanity that demands my attention,
regardless of us both knowing there’s just no damn logic to be found here at all.

Too late for sleep, I’ll slip away seeking some semblance of self
and come back mostly intact,
in time.



October 3

October 3, 2016

while not the choice of cunning cat burglary enthusiasts
Nevertheless inspires a strong sense of shifting temperatures.
A fall fashion featured in soon to be scuffed freshly waxed hallways
and playgrounds saturated with the screams of remembering
how to get the most out of recreation
within compartmentalized increments of time.
An unstealth school day staple of same colour stripeyness
Against a backdrop of whisperwicking sounds
made by wanderers running amok
on crackle leaf paths.


October 2

October 2, 2016

Autumn appetite
whets itself on the well loved dark and stormy night
As the September candle, all shades of flame
dim and recede in the rearview mirror.

Shivering in a porch chair
October in my hair,
a breeze that finds a way to spell out how goosebumps feel
on the nape of my neck.
New moon no light dark sky mystery rebound
from sane to scared senseless and back again
Bogeyman briar patch of wondering
Who is out there in the dark

Imagination running riot
The sounds of a creak on the stairs
Amplified by the calendar creep
And an inability to sleep
Without the covers pulled tight
To my chin.

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