time honored

i look around and my life is a strange place. not something i didn't inhabit but something i did. when all around me is death and destruction and reconstructionist attitudes and i think, how did we get here? and realize the collective "we" is a construct. that the "we" i thought existed never did. so let me go back to the beginning and wonder how we can connect in a meaningful way. this is a formidable aspect of writing, the collective "we." not about attitudes or adjustments or positions or possessions but about consciousness of a generation or two.

Tight Fit

He looks around at the flagrant display of Dior, Armani, Jacobs and Blahnik marching past like a fashion show and wonders why conspicuous consumers don’t wear money, stock quotes, bank statements and economic forecasts instead of designer clothes. At least it would be more honest and hell, they’d be recycling all that paper. That way no one would have to guess their net worth.

no time

I've been wrestling with tense. Tense about tense. Unintentionally when I started writing September 10th I was working in the present tense then somewhere along the way I realized what I was doing and had to question it. There's a reason for it. Time compressed into a single moment--a metaphor for the compression of Brian's life--how the magnitude of a single event can implode an entire life. In pursuit of anonymity the past doesn't matter anymore and the future doesn't exist.

The mechanics of doing this have been problematic. Like a cinematographer shooting live I was capturing it documentary style yet I (the omniscient narrator) was no longer present. So how can the conjugation change midstream, the tense reverse course? I go back and forth and in the editing find myself constantly adjusting. This is my dilemma. The dilemma of invention, I guess.

BlackPrintsSeriesNo.28

Conceal Me

Electro Shock

"There’s all this electromagnetic current," Gracie explains. "The kind you can test with devices that make skin contact. You know, like EEGs and EKGs and that sort of thing, but what I want to know is where does all that energy go when a person dies, the field around the body, the one that intersects and surrounds us, the vibrational field…”

She says, "People didn’t vacate lower Manhattan because of the toxic residue. They didn’t vacate out of fear. They vacated because of the massive amount of electromagnetism unleashed into the atmosphere by 3,000 dying and deceased people.”

MeAndMyShadow

she's gone

a major inspiration in my life has died. my shadow of 20 years. my cat, my daughter, my loved one, the one who taught me how to love, who slept on my desk beside me as i labored over words, ideas, structure, subtext. my muse... how to transcend the depths of despair? how to go on without her? writing is so insignificant right now. i remember another time when i felt like that. when my father died. to the spirit, may it soar.

Social Studies No5

that flawless image

Vanessa is probably better off without him, deeper in love with the prospect that he suffered a tragic demise, like the fate of all great artists who never enjoy recognition or the fruits of their labor while they're still alive. Yes, he decides, death brings with it all the benefits promised but undelivered in life. All the myths… pure, unadulterated happiness, unconditional love, charged flashes of memory altered subconsciously to make within the survivor’s mind a permanent place for that flawless image that never truly existed. And of course the ultimate advantage to the deceased, total liberation from the constraints of ordinary life.

don't point

If not for love or adventure, family or cause

what would be the point?

That is the point...that having one doesn’t matter,

defending one doesn’t protect it,

protection isn't necessary

nor is the point

because there is none.

Social Studies No.4

top editor

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BlackPrintsSeriesNo.27

when process is a luxury

i don't know about all you artists and writers, but i'm getting the feeling that "the man" (i'm not imposing gender here - it's just an expression) is closing in. soon art, the creative pursuit, a work-in-progress will be considered a luxury. you know you hit bottom when this occurs. it's all about work, concept, spontaneity, accidents, and after enough years, a certain lack of intention. it is not about art as investment. we can't expect too many people to understand this, i guess. it's the imperfect storm. time to step back, reassess and then let go!