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January 27, 2012

i was going to try and write this post using proper punctuation and capitals, but the thought of it got me a little too hung up. whereas i’m a finicky editor and writer in day to day life, this blog seems to work better as a stream of consciousness vomit. here i am, bolstered by many strong cuppas after a wild and late (and sober) night out at the cameron house last night, which consisted of chris and olena and i wearing fox masks and stomping around to klezmer music. i’m fairly certain that there was barking at some point. no, i’m positive. because i did it.


i’m not sure if any of you ever experience this, and i decided to write about it because i wonder what everybody’s distance is. and when i say distance, i mean the amount of distance that you have to put between yourself and what you’re writing about.

i should specify – that for me, it means time. as of late, i’ve been acutely aware of the amount of time that i apparently need between experiencing something and writing about it. i used to think that my poetry fared better if i wrote it down the moment anything momentous happened, but now i wonder. and different things – perhaps things that carry different weight for me – seem to take different amounts of time and distance. i’ve been more aware of this as of late because i’ve been suddenly pumping out a lot of fishing-lodge themed writing, and considering i worked at that lodge a year and a half ago, i’m a little surprised. but might i add that i haven’t been able to write any poetry or non-fiction about my trip to northern ireland, which happened right after work at the lodge. so basically, there are two events that have had almost the same amount of time, of distance, between them and the present, and yet i’m only writing in depth about one.


i've written about 34 poems about this one scene alone. enjoy!!


i feel so lost when people try to get me to describe burning man, and i think this ties in. if i had been sharper, i would have written something pert and pertinent about burning man the second i got home from it, and i would have pitched that somewhere. because as soon as i came home from burning man, it blew up into the mainstream, and there were articles about it everywhere, and i think i may have missed a chance to write a story or a poem or a non fiction piece about that and have it picked up by a major source or outlet. but i just couldn’t do it. it took me two months to even write sloppy blog posts about each of the days there, and i could remember everything that had happened, i didn’t even take notes when i was there, so it was all in my noggin, but it still felt strange to try and squeeze it out onto a page (albeit it an electronic one).


let's write an article about this.


i still haven’t properly processed burning man yet. i’m like a treacle-slow plant, not doing my share of photosynthesis. or maybe that’s “normal” (?) – using the term “NORMAL” very loosely here because let’s face it in in a writing community normality is pretty much frowned upon, and your weaknesses and oddities are instead badges of valour. maybe, for me, normal is a long time. i think about things a lot. as of late i’ve been noticing that i’m living in my head, almost completely at times. i’m legitimately talking to myself – especially in the shower, i seem to think of a lot of things in the shower, don’t know why, what a think tank – legitimately saying things out loud (imagined interviews, poems, phrases that look good on paper but may not sound good out loud, or phrases that may sound good out loud but look odd and repetitive on the page) like i’m rehearsing something. my head is the space in which i live right now, so it’s clear that i really do think about things quite a lot, that i feel things thoroughly. that it seems to take me longer to get over some things as opposed to other people. maybe my heart and my head are just too weird and sensitive and so that’s why it takes me so long to process things that meant so much to me – relationships, experiences, jobs, travel, infatuations of any kind. i create delicate webs of story in my head when i glom onto something like that, something that means something so much to me, so maybe i feel the need to finish that web before i can get it down.


looking back on what i just wrote, it sounds something like the dissolution of nijinsky’s brain in his final stages of sanity.  i wonder what my brain is slogging towards right now, because apparently i have a lot of thoughts at cette moment. actually, i can feel the agitation of a new adventure burning under my bottom, to be honest, and i have one in mind but it might take a while to get there.

the point of this post was this: do people find it easier to write (or create, or paint, or act, or whatever other creative – or even non creative – form they do) about an event right right right after it happens, or do they take time like i do? am i mad?

One Comment leave one →
  1. May 2, 2014 9:16 pm

    Epic. Educational

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