I spent a writer's block moving some of these posts to myspace. My mom was all over it and called me with all these questions about what is / isn't true...after telling me I'm an amazing writer of course (thanks mom; like most things I'll disagree). But she does bring up an interesting point. I tend to throw everything in here, with varying degrees of reference to reality. I have a fascination with where creativity comes seemingly from nowhere and where it has an impetus in reality: passive aggressive message to my friends, cry for help or attention, etc. And I'm a pretty honest guy, to a fault, so I'm just going to lay it out:
The Beast: First paragraph about my ex, sitting about with no intent to blog in my head. It took a weird turn. An awkward night at a bar pissed me off enough to write, and I finished it barely able to sit up. I tried to maintain a faithfulness to it being about the ex while being pissed at another. 100% true.
Image One: 100% True.
The Dynamic: 12% True. My first attempt at not creating a cry for help.
Recognition: 100% True. Because writing the previous entry was not smooth...
She Moved Through the Fair: 60% True. The Ex was sitting by my side the whole time. And I didn't lose my wallet.
Project Management: Is an ill-conceived piece of crap.
The Giving Tree: 97% True. My grandfather and I are men, so there was not nearly as much talking. Plus we were both chewing tobacco, something I chose to leave out.
Easter Notes: That shit is 100% true.
September Fourth: 100% true. And I'm about 25% over it.
The Opposite of Murder: The first thing I wrote that I have a good feeling about. It ends positively. I'll call it 30% true, since I've been attacked by crows on several occasions and feel like we don't have a healthy relationship...and saving the bird really did happen.
Litter Box: 99% true. I doubt my neighbor was checking me out. This one, and a subsequent post, were vital to me. The diabetes, and my inability to be responsible about it 24x7, 365 days a year, has led to some very frightening moments.
Social Skills: 4% true. But don't I wish it were more 'n that? I get all artsy-like, transitioning from a cumbersome, inept, sentence structuring - to end in a frenetic speed. It was the first time I surprised myself with what I wrote, and it was like sinking a putt on the 18th green after a shitty day of golf; the thing that brings you back for more.
Merging: another from the diabetes monologues, and 100% true.
Progressing: 100% untrue. Mostly, I was loving the style of writing I was engaging with the ending paragraph of Social Skills. Extempore.
The Wastelands: About a person, and I guess it's 100% true. I feel like I'm edging towards something more like prose, and the percentages get a little sketchy when I do...also, the stupidest title I employ.
HI: 100% true.
Leave the Kitten Alone!: 100% true, and really: don't fuck with the cat, ever.
Deconstructo: I felt like I did such a fun job blurring the line between fiction and reality with Social Skills, I decided on a sequel. After all, I've already committed a fuck fantasy to word about a girl I will eventually meet; I thought it would be fun to write how she figures it all out when we do for real. Then I decided to get cute and make it the same number of words as the first, and that was just silly. There will probably be a third, against all better judgment...mostly because Bree and I walked by her one day. There's something about having 2 worlds that don't jive making this tangential brush. I'll call it 15% true - everything about my sleep deprivation at the time, anyways...
Fragments: 0% true, and based on the title: negligible.
Mother's Day: 100% true, more or less.
Untitled I: 0 % true. I want to do more of this nonsense fable stuff.
Dreams Conjured: 100% true. But they are dreams, after all.
On Meditation: Commentary, something I don't usually do. First off, I'm not well-travelled or well-educated; I don't have the authority for it. I just finished Hitchen's God is Not Great, and it gave me an appreciation for how even television pundits are miles ahead of my outlook on things. I think I only wrote this because I was too lazy to finish my own Atheism in an Age of Irreverence which would have been (un)read and (un)appreciated by only one person I know.
SIFF Notes: 100% True. But note how wordy I'm getting.
Her Interior: Again, 100% true with the 'prose' caveat. Although - I love this little piece, and I've re-read it myself a couple-dozen times.
Yetrigar & The Getty's Cove Redress are both 100% true. Really, just travel logs from the Sasquatch trip.
I've Been Thinking About It...: 50% true. I was having a bad week at work with the ex, who was spending all day in a conference room 30 feet from me. At one point she surprised me at my desk, which I was not ready for...and we spent a half hour talking. I wrote this when the thought crossed my mind: what if she suggested getting back together? And the rest is true, though an immature impulsiveness is honest and evident. I felt a little weird about this one, especially when someone wanted to make sure it wasn't true - qualifying it with a 'you don't smoke, right?'
manna for manny: 6% true. I walked by this person downtown and wanted to see if I could write about him. I walked a block to 4th & Pine, headphones on and struggling to get my notebook out in mid-stride. I finally whipped it out, and 2 condoms flew out of my bag and into the air as I did so. There is nothing more humbling than picking up your rubbers (from off one of the dirtier corners in town) amongst a half dozen homeless, adolescent tweakers.
Casanova: When I finish this monster, it will be 25% true. I mean, it takes place in the 50's, a place I wasn't exactly at. It might be my first real short story.
I Get Punched in the Head: 100% True, but one would think I've been punched in the head more than once. Perhaps the fact that it only happened once makes it worth writing about.
There it is. I'm hoping it's a positive promise of things to come. As I wrote this, I kept thinking of any number of music band's greatest hits collections, and how things tend to go downhill after they indulge a retrospective. I guess I have obsurity going for me. I'm trying to think of these as my singles: nobody cared, but I passionately petitioned.
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