Monday, November 29, 2010

Incomplete List Of Songs That Tend To Make Me Cry Slightly

Sail Away - Randy Newman
Martha - Tom Waits
Just A Closer Walk - Patsy Cline
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Gordon Lightfoot
Let It Be - (as sung by) Aretha Franklin
Never Make Me Cry - Fleetwood Mac (**IRONICALLY)
The Way You Look Tonight - (as sung by) Fred Astaire

Do any of you have any? I have more, but they are even more embarrassing than these, so they have been excluded.

Monday, November 15, 2010

MUST BLOG IT

Yeah, but who blogs at night? I pretty much never do, that's for sure. (It is 11:40 PM as I write this.)

Tomorrow is the closing on my apartment in NYC. It's taken a long time to get here, with many trials and tribulations, but life feels okay. I guess the best/worst part is that even this event, something I looked forward to so much for so long ("looked forward to so much" = "was at times desperate for") feels not like the culmination of an experience, but like the beginning of one. I can look for new, better jobs; find a new apartment to buy that I can actually afford; spend more time with people I like. Also -- and this is why this whole post exists right now -- I'll do more work on my projects. It sucks that I have no new stories or essays or novels right now and haven't since like February, but taking an extended break from writing has been necessary. I think now it won't be anymore.

All in all, I'm not too mad at myself for the break, only the right amount of mad that will get me to start writing again. If success really is measured by what you have done with the resources available to you, rather than the net amount of your achievements/money/fame (I like to think this is true), then do you know what? Slogging up Route 9 on foot carrying a camera, scan/copying old coursebooks with a Canon printer, endeavoring to define "skronk" in unique words, looking presentable in T-shirts from 1999 until more money comes in, gazing at the Lackawanna clock tower over the top of a pint glass... I am a success.

We had a lecture at JCAS today about autobiography in fiction and essays. Writers have it hard sometimes, because they feel their worth is wrapped up in their thoughts, their ability to translate those thoughts into something others didn't know before. I do believe the better a "translator" someone is, the better they are as a writer. But the worst thing for a writer isn't to be obtuse, it's to be dishonest. So, I will continue to say honest things here and everywhere else my voice ends up, even if it's the very least I can do, like now. And then, eventually, I will be able to do more.

Monday, November 1, 2010

The Past

Here is a comic I drew 11 years ago for a paper zine -- I just found it in my desk drawer when I was rummaging around. Today is a pensive day.