bonnie parker (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} walkonhome) wrote,@ 2005-07-05 22:33:00 |
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the ability to work in a team environment
so what have i been doing but working in a team environment, i definitely have the skills for any old job.
i've been doing cut-ups this summer, taking from conversations, books, and my head and adding them all together to make poems.
tonight i saw a great beginning "southern fried chicken in the basket." and what makes this so great?
"the basket." why didn't they write "a basket"? now i have the "th" of the "southern" and the "th" of "the". although this seems absolutely useless, it is what i love and why i write.
my commitment to writing has only increased since being here, i feel more dedicated than ever. i'm looking forward to coming home, not because i want to leave here, but because home will be easier in some ways, there will be more private time.
i swam 3 days in a row in pools and lakes. i saw fireworks in germantown, the best fireworks ever!!! my friends here are delicious.
mortality is forever being brought into focus with my friend's dad in a coma, my mother having been in a coma, etc, etc.
i'm trying to deal with the incomprehensibility of mortality, how we can never reconcile death/ injury/ accident/ surprise of pain and loss, i'm writing in this way that can never be synthesized fully, but then i wonder what else? or as Rit says, to what end?
and is it valid to say because that's what life is? cause it's real and that's the end or the goal? something truthful. but then doesn't that just go back to the old notion that poets are conveyors of "truth" and isn't "truth" always subject to question/ suspicion? and why would i want someone to go through confusion, when we all have to go through it anyway? what if i tried to make an alternative? that would still be life, too. i can't write outside life. that doesn't exist.
so what have i been doing but working in a team environment, i definitely have the skills for any old job.
i've been doing cut-ups this summer, taking from conversations, books, and my head and adding them all together to make poems.
tonight i saw a great beginning "southern fried chicken in the basket." and what makes this so great?
"the basket." why didn't they write "a basket"? now i have the "th" of the "southern" and the "th" of "the". although this seems absolutely useless, it is what i love and why i write.
my commitment to writing has only increased since being here, i feel more dedicated than ever. i'm looking forward to coming home, not because i want to leave here, but because home will be easier in some ways, there will be more private time.
i swam 3 days in a row in pools and lakes. i saw fireworks in germantown, the best fireworks ever!!! my friends here are delicious.
mortality is forever being brought into focus with my friend's dad in a coma, my mother having been in a coma, etc, etc.
i'm trying to deal with the incomprehensibility of mortality, how we can never reconcile death/ injury/ accident/ surprise of pain and loss, i'm writing in this way that can never be synthesized fully, but then i wonder what else? or as Rit says, to what end?
and is it valid to say because that's what life is? cause it's real and that's the end or the goal? something truthful. but then doesn't that just go back to the old notion that poets are conveyors of "truth" and isn't "truth" always subject to question/ suspicion? and why would i want someone to go through confusion, when we all have to go through it anyway? what if i tried to make an alternative? that would still be life, too. i can't write outside life. that doesn't exist.
