Mentally Constipated
Verbally emasculated
time spent on others, building precious presents filled with moments shared,
while I, the time traveler have not a minute to spare,
no fuel to go back to beginning,
and let loose a flood of liberation.
Pupils dilated, yet the future can not be seen-
just a blank screen
and blurred blurry brown eyes, puffy puffed eye lids,
clouded from capturing tears. Nothing left behind but the
thoughts of a shattered future swim around the broken time machine.
Ms. Manners Breakout On…Encountering The Homeless
As I stepped into the train this morning, I was accompanied by the faint smell of fermented stench, sweat and traces of vomit. I looked over and saw that a homeless man was laying across the three-seater row at the entrance of the train. Now while this man’s scent did make my nose do funny things, I DID NOT: Continue reading
what are we doing?
caught in the land of make-believe, in between the black and white,
drifting in the pool of gray, graying…
saying…
more nothings than
somethings.
lasting moments after the exasperation of our sweat soaked bodies
entwined in lines of linen…
silent kisses though we’re far off in the distance, away from what use to be…
burrowing tunnels, looking for distractions,
to wipe away my mirror of dissatisfaction.
you stay content with your silence all the while you build a wall beside me
how many feet above,
blocking love.
my once Pyramus building pyramids away from this,
your former Thisbe who no longer stands beside waiting on your voice.
All has become quiet on the western front.
i’m no longer certain anymore of what we are or what we have become.
two drones seeking a means to become real, to feel once more.
or two halves of a heart, pulling steadily apart.
Floating in reveries
of what use to be…
what are we?
I’ve been neglecting my duties to finish one of my pieces at the end of this month. It’s hard and trying, especially when I find all my literary motivation coming to me at times when I should be putting my attention on other more ‘important’ things. As it stands, I have added several pages to my story, typing up all the pages that I’ve written on the train and adding other pages from my tracking site 750words.com. As it is, my story is growing longer and longer than I expected and I find myself finding holes I have to fit and I haven’t even hit the crux of the story yet!
It’s all a process I suppose. I have only 9 more days to attempt to finish this story. Will I finish it? Maybe. If not, I do intend on finishing it before the end of 2011. I don’t want to start 2012 with a set of incomplete stories. One less incomplete story leads to one more shot at publication in the New Year.
I must persevere, I MUST persevere, I MUST PERSEVERE!
w/love,
-Alja
I have a confession to make-
I wrote absolutely nothing on Day 7. Not a blip. I was so taken into everything else going on that day, that I just couldn’t write. And I had absolutely no desire to, which was horrible. I kept looking at the blank page stare back and me and nothing came. I even thought to myself to just make something up, but it didn’t work.
All that means is that today I’m going to have to work doubly hard. And not a moment better as liquids have leaked into my bag and well…’colored’ some of the papers I had moseying around in there. I’m also going to get started on another Disney blog post and a few people have in mind which cartoon will be the target of my scrutiny.
Hopefully today will be a better day.
W/love
-Alja
One of my favorite original pieces that I’ve always wanted to perform, but never had the courage to.
I recorded the audio (forgive me, it’s not the best audio ever) and created a video with the words so that you may follow along. I hope that you’re able to hear everything and I guess, feel the embodiment of the time I was going through when I wrote this.
Hope you enjoy!
This is a poem I wrote…
Curled, crimped and trimmed hair sends flashes of red anger through my eyes and down my spine. I don’t want to be this way. But, I can’t help but mix yellow and blue hues when I travel back and forth to a part of town I wouldn’t otherwise be in, to do work I don’t get paid for and watch brand name big bags hanging from manicured hands swaying to the beat of the high priced high-heels clacking down the granite hallway.
I don’t want to be mean. To take my mind off of things, I come up with every way imaginable to explain why those luxurious gifts aren’t meant for me. And when my thoughts stray away, a calm relief washes over me, adding more yellow and a splash of red to the concoction. And I can see again. And I can breathe again. And I feel like a person worth being.
Then as sure as time waits for no one, a pain leaves my chest and grabs at my neck, beckoning me to release that pent up tension. Sexy stilettos step in front of me, reminding me of my of a life I can’t have, a party I was denied because people found it easier to not invite me, and an ensemble I could never wear–peacock colors I would never be brave to dare step out in with a semi-permanent disfigured ankle. I envy the feet that dance all night long, to music that I wouldn’t be able to sing along to, at places that would never be a part of my memory banks.
Hunter. My eyes grow ravenous, thinking only to tear down what isn’t mine or can’t be mine, while deep down inside I don’t want to be that hungry. I don’t want that yearning because I’ve grown to like the person that I’ve become–two sides to this one being, who has yet to walk out in her shoes, bought for the sheer fun, but have never graced the murky sidewalk. I don’t like being greedy and so sometimes I starve myself. Then the green becomes moss and the hunger grows…
I try to think about other things. I try to make it seem like my eclectic tastes and my random wit and my distorted nature makes up for me being uniquely excluded on the ritualistically included norms of everyone’s everyday living. That my difference doesn’t hinder me, but gives me a way to see things differently. That my weird is a science only I can understand and what some find intriguing- a whole new world that some venture into with open arms, while others look away with blank bland eyes.
Though, if misery loves company, then my eyes must be filled with something full.
I don’t mean to be mean, and I don’t want my eyes to be ever-green. I don’t want to want, but I can’t help that when I see things, my eyes open wide, the colors change and I feel different inside.
My id says that my eyes are brown, but they can be green sometimes…though, I wished they’d just stay brown.
I know, some of you are probably wondering why it’s been about two weeks, and this entry is ‘Day 7.’ Well, it’s the seventh day in my journey to finish writing several of my unfinished projects…hopefully at least one before the end of the year.
Today I haven’t written anything new, nor do I have the desire to. I have to desire to write, but to just randomly ramble on for as long as my fingers can manage. I wrote about 200+ words on Thursday and Friday was spent writing that awesome post on the Disney head-scratching moments and themes.
Today I’m hoping to bang out a couple of hundred words. I don’t know where they’ll come from, but I need them out of me and on the page. I need my stories to be finished. I won’t know if I have the chops to be a prolific writer if…I don’t write, right?
I’m also thinking of entering a memoir contest, using a memoir piece I wrote years ago. It will need some cleaning up here or there, but I think it’s pretty good. Don’t know where it’ll place as it is about my life…and I’m not the most ‘interesting’ person in the world, but it’s something that was a brain-child of the holiday season that’s not too far ahead now. Let’s see how it goes.
W/love
-Alja
I’ve been meaning to write this somewhat long (and possibly well-thought) dissertation on several underlying themes in most of my childhood cartoons, some interconnecting, others stray thoughts and questions, but I’m almost always sidetracked. Today, I will force myself to get these ideas out. Not because I’m looking for someone to read this to go “Damn, that was deep,” but because it’s really a thought and I’d like to hear the opinion of others and because… well, I’m weird and yeah, that’s about it.
So, I’m a fan of cartoons. I grew up on Disney, as most adults my age have. I was a part of the 1980s generation that were old enough to watch films like The Lion King and The Little Mermaid and enjoy the hell out of them. However, as I’ve gotten older (and yes, watched these movies over and over again), I began to question A LOT of things I normally wouldn’t have questioned when I was five. I will be writing for different movies as my questions come to me. Like I said, I’ve been compiling this in my brain for a while, so it will take several installments to get this all out…
*Please Note: I do not ‘blame’ Disney for any of my findings, as these are films based on very old fairy tales, however, as Disney has animated them I will continue to say ‘Disney’ as a reference. **Also, not all cartoons animations of childhood fairy tales were the brain child of Disney, so I will attribute the production companies accordingly.*
Beauty and the Beast
Beauty and the Beast – One of my all-time favorite movies hands down and critics have agreed because well, the movie garnered a four-star rating. While I love this film, I (as an adult) have questions that I’d desperately love explained: Continue reading
Last night was a bit of a back step in my attempt to finish one of my stories. While I’ve been adding pages through 750words.com, because I haven’t re-read through old pages, these new ones aren’t as continuous as I hoped for. Last night I did some editing on the train, which isn’t bad, but isn’t good– when I edit, I subtract, not add. I started adding and the more I wrote, the more it didn’t feel right.
Today I intend on focusing on adding at least a page and/or typing up some handwritten pages. I find that for this story (that I’ve tentatively called ‘Four Cups of Tea’), I’m writing out of sequence. While it seems pretty intriguing, as I’d like to see where it goes, it’s frightening. I’m scared that I’m going to find a really good ending and then give up on writing the in-between portions. I wouldn’t want to be one of those writers who readers say “got lazy” or “gave up” or “basically got tired.”
Why is this so hard? *sigh* I must get to writing. I will note my progress later.
W/love
-Alja
AljaTheWriter 