I’ve been in a pissy mood with part of the internet community for the last week or so… namely the younger gamers who frequent popular review sites and act like macho jackasses.  Let me preface this by saying that this type of behavior normally doesn’t phase me.  In fact, I find it pitifully funny.  It’s when these idiots start spewing racist/bigoted/prejudiced nonsense that I wish I lived close enough that I could drive to their respective (parents) homes and slap each kid squarely on the back of the head.

The thing I love most about capitalist societies is the ability of people to create such an arsenal of techniques for screwing others over, financially. I went to the Warped Tour in Minneapolis last month. Throughout the day, my friends and I learned how to sucker people out of their money, if we ever host such an event ourselves. Now, don’t get me wrong, I had an incredible time that day. I’m just slightly bitter about the hole that was burned in my pocket. 

Write something inspired by the following quote:

I’ve arrived at this outermost edge of my life by my own actions. Where I am is thoroughly unacceptable. Therefore, I must stop doing what I’ve been doing.

Alice Koller, An Unknown Woman, 1982

i can see it so very clearly… especially
  since her passing… this white expanse
  of land that lays all around me on
  every side.
there are no buildings… no trees… no
  river brooks… and most certainly
  no people to cloud my view.
  there is simply white. a plain of land
  covered by snow for as far as
  the eye can see.
the cold does not make me shiver…
  nor does the solitude. for this
  remote location is of my choosing.
  i am not scared of losing my mind
  here… for it lay in the casket
  next to her.

Write about a moment of clarity.

My method is different than any other photographer I know of, and arguably very backwards. With very few exceptions, all of my photos exist simply because I thought they looked cool, for whatever reason. My primary motive is to capture beauty, be it natural or man-made. 

Serenity.  One can close one’s eyes and sway gently as a soft melody plays, memories of dancing close to someone whose heartbeat you can feel.  It’s that feeling when things seem to make sense… although I will admit that for me, this moment does not come around as often as it used to.  I lost a lot of confidence with the passing of my wife, and it is confidence which brings forth serenity.  When one is confident in the world, their skin, their purpose, their path, their relations and I could go on forever. 

Still, I am fortunate in that I can still find serenity in words.

Not just any words, however.  Rather words strung together with purpose and feeling.  Words which lead the mind to leap forward.  Words which massage an emotion, so gently at first, then with a passion that most reserve for lovers. 

I have found over the years that for me, serenity in words does not come from reading other people’s work, but rather from playing with the language myself.  It is always more fulfilling to get one’s fingers dirty than to admire someone else’s flowers.  The same can be said of creating with words.

“la musique” he speaks
  in his native language…
  “ah, la musique.”
i listen, grateful for the glass
  of wine which he has
  handed me, and the
  turntable spins slowly…
  the needle threading
  its song as the red
  liquid rolls about
  my tongue.
“je me souviens de temps
  en temps” he continues,
  and i nod slowly… a
  smile upon my lips…
  for i remember dancing
  with her also.
what an odd time to meet
  her old lover… so
  soon after her wake.