December 2010
4 posts
1 tag
Discipline Over Gear
I’m an artist, most would say I’m a writer, I’m writing this in a Moleskine with a Zebra F-301 pen, the ones with the great smelling ink. When I get to my MacBook Pro it’ll be transferred into TextMate and when I think of a title it’ll be copied into Scrivener. Between those steps ideas for this essay will be typed into my iPhone using Simplenote and then synced to my...
1 tag
Lived Past My Potential
I’m sorry to all the teachers that had faith in me
Sorry to all my friends too
I’m getting on the right track now but at twenty-four it seems a little too late sometimes
I shouldn’t have followed so many girls around
Should have made my own path in this life
I was smarter back then and a little older too
Unwilling to take shit from anyone
Anyone other than girls I knew...
1 tag
A Poem Called Emma
At first she was his muse, but now she was his writer’s block. Everything was great, but great is nothing new; great is just a better good. There are no stories in good. Happiness is short lived for most artists. It’s like a Zen mind, a thoughtless mind, eventually you notice it and in noticing it you destroy it. He wrote all the poetry he could about her. He did all the thoughtful...
1 tag
Bitter Silence
Becca was the kind of girl to have mono recordings on vinyl. She had a massive collection from all genres which she bought with whatever money she had left over from her paychecks and student loans. A music history major I met in professor Bell’s algebra class freshman year. She had better taste than me and that was unusual. I was the resident music guru in high school and her passion for it...