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 |   All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
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The Idiotic Ideate?? Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.) Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter. if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it. We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone "It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely." "You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself." ![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)    "...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires. I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD. My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are. Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life. I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me. A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about... |
| I share a review I wrote: Review of "Peace"  Dear Prasenjit Paul , For a short poem, it seemed a long departure. I looked in on "Invalid Item"  and discovered a poem described as fulfillment in life. I had to reconsider the context of the poem upon observing this. Perhaps, this poem is more about the end of one's life. Perhaps, it is actually a sad goodbye.The only reason I doubt this sounds like one fulfilled is it lingers and seems to draw attention to this narrator going on about 'lonely I will depart' because one has 'done their best' and 'nobody will disturb' before that 'happiness and bliss.' I think the writer is actually trying to get someone to notice. It's falsely modest, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. We all get in this way where we have to tell ourselves that what we've been, what we've done in this world and for others, amounted to something. It sounds like one reassuring that they have mattered. And, who actually pens a poem before leaving, and makes it seem about a final farewell. A goodbye that might seem permanent? It might be overdramatized for effect. I get it. I'm there. This is how life seems to leave us...empty, unfulfilled. I lie and tell people I'm fine, I'm worthy, all the time. In my heart of hearts, yeah there's a big hole there. I fill it with delusion or whatever will do. There is a deeper meaning and texture to this poem that goes beyond what a reader may see or believe. If it's just on the surface, this is just an ordinary poem about, 'okay, I'm leaving,' or 'okay, bye, this is me walking out the door.' Who does that? Normally, just someone who wants a grand exit. We want those arms to enwrap us and make us feel warm, to make us feel like the visit was pleasant with the reciprocated love. But, this poem is just a person alone, as if speaking to oneself. Is that the echo of our words we hear as we are alone in the doorway on that sweet exit out? I am totally on board with this. It is awkward, perhaps not on purpose. We write these things when we are in a particular mood. It is self-fulfilling or a grand illusion about life, but it is certainly not providing the evidence to support the depicted description. I've been known to be dishonest with myself in this way. It's humanizing. And, I think it is beautiful and endearing. It's important to accept we are lonely and that we are self-sustaining as we must love ourselves and the gifts that we've given, even when it feels we are not appreciated. And to me, that overall sums up the general tone and theme presented here. Thank you for sharing this. Brian |
When I begin to think how easy it is to drop 500 to a thousand words on a review, I think about the novel. But then I examine why I don't just plow into it again. What's stopping me isn't necessarily that I couldn't knock out 50k words in two weeks. I think writing fiction is like trying to bullshit a bullshitter...at least in the context of a writing community. Listening to people discuss their slants on preferred fiction, it's wide-ranging. Not necessarily main stream stuff that they're talking about, and I'm lost. I don't care for derivative styles, not what draws me in to specific genres. Maybe, I'm too vanilla thinking in the context of reality, and what I could draw from...experience. Then, I think, I've been here 14 years. I don't have a crew, an audience, unless it's about poetry. Even then, how seriously am I really taking it? I thought, after one zoom session, there are some real people. While I agree with a lot of things they say and can jump in and talk about many subjects that inspire thought, I can't visualize myself speaking very much. The one time I went in a particular direction, I started to talk too fast, felt I could hyperventilate. I remember looking inward, my eyes not focused on the images facing me on the screen. Yeah, it was my first time, and with mostly strangers looking on. I felt afterwards that I was not true to myself, that I was false. I might not have seem like it to them. So, I stare at the screen. I look on at the massive numbers of words I've created in this community. Would anyone disagree I've written enough for 10 books or more? Why wouldn't I devote all of that effort to myself? It feels I'm being untrue to myself, because I'm trying to serve something outside of me. This website designed a system where some writers are elite of others. My value as a writer here, devalued by that system. I realize that everything I do for this community is not really for myself in the long run. How am I benefiting from this association? How am I going to tackle that novel if I go on thinking I have not found a group I fit in? Why, why haven't I found like-minded people? Was I so hurt before I came here that I pushed everyone away so they couldn't see how false I felt? Or, could it be that this website has not facilitated my needs in a way that I expected it would or should? Lots of good questions. No easy answers. I could stop reviewing. I could stop writing poetry. I could end this dance through newsfeed like it is going to humanize me and draw people nearer. It's just some likes, quips and on to the next. I share my face. I see avatars in return. I see real people in zoom and wondered, why public here? Am I the false one? Because, I could really share. But, would that be going too far. Yes, I would like to share my life in Green Bay with the rest of you. Baby steps, I thought. But, I am a baby and that is why I feel like pushing away again. Whatever is that I have done to make this community so dismissive of me, I need to be educated. I always took any indifference or shunning as proof my provocative statements to draw people out are enough to show my true value to them. I could offer more of myself, and have. But, I won't commit. Not if it's going to continue like this. I know that if I devote all my time to myself and nothing else, it will be the same result. No one is going to take the time to read my blog, plow through all of this to get to the end. I might as well keep typing, for myself. I have dived into the other blogs and postings of people who seem to need attention over those who get more than their fair share, and it yields nothing for me still. Yet, people in this community seem to know one another, get involved with one another. It might be all tied to the cryptocurrency that is the unit that drives this machine. do I give in to it? Do I want to know the only reason people befriend me is because I drop a couple hundred dollars a year to pathetically draw their ears? Is that friendship? I've been through all of this and more in my life outside the internet. When I arrived in 2006, I didn't know what I was setting myself up for. I knew I could write novel length stuff. I did not want to self-publish. Do I plow forward knowing that is my only outcome with this craft? Posting on this website is self-publishing and is earning me as much respect and money as I could expect to receive anywhere. Shouldn't I be satisfied with that? One problem, I stumbled into this place and knocked over a bunch of stuff before I got a handle on things. And there's this matter of listening to all these sorts go on about how their this or that. To listen to these associations that they form for being this or that. Well, I don't need a blue ribbon or someone paying homage to my case color. But, that is the hurdle that stands in the way. That is the thing that forces folks who don't know the difference from my book cover what worth I could be, or have been, in this writing community. If you have peered inside and it remains this way, then I will only have to assume my value here. And, it apparently isn't from reviewing. While I am rewarded handsomely with the crypto-credit, 20 of my last 100 reviews earned a response from the author. I know an in-depth should do better than that. So, here I am spinning my wheels in my blog. I don't need pity. I don't need fake relationships. I don't know what I need at this point. I do know, I will continue to write and sour and it will be what it is as the days pass. I have tired of the false relationships. I can tell where I stand with people who greet me with words that feel we are six feet apart. Don't need the platitudes, though I'll hear them to continue to know where I stand with each. I know I won't kiss the ground to earn favor. I know I won't go out of my way to strike out of some sort of animosity. I'm owed nothing, even if I feel I have overpaid with something more valuable than money...to me. And that has been my words. More specifically, content. I see what is linked in the margins. Some of the most god-awful stuff. For a website that should want to put its best foot forward, you draw in an odd assortment. Imagine the competition among good writers and the levels that this place could go. I have to read material outside of this website for inspiration, often. I find it hard with the flawed rating system to ferret out works worthy of review. Then, I find a few authors I like and the people they like and I read and review and hope to associate. But, there is a color barrier, it seems. It's unfortunate that when I get to the bottom of this blog post, it's like getting to the bottom of my last cup of coffee and still uninspired. Still wishing I had that special slice of something to go with that Joe that didn't sate. The days are far and few between with this caffeine addiction that leaves me always trying and always coming up empty. 9.14.20 so sad that I get to the end of this and the only thing playing on a loop inside my head are the lyrics from the song, 'no I won't give up...' slowly and sadly churning over and over melodramatically or bittersweetly. ly-something. Grammar check later. (I had to resist writing all kinds of introductions to this piece, post mortem) DOA The problem with the systematic way members are put on disproportionate levels leads to less interaction and not more. You have put worlds within worlds with walls that only incentivizes the best activity from the privileged elite which is actually becomes less beneficial than those with the drive corrupted by the perceived division. We're basically all equals...but we're given information otherwise here. This relationship is f'd up...not just on my end. |
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In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
