Writing is a constant work in process. Last night my girlfriend insisted that I try some writing exercises. I don’t intend to share all or even most of them, but I wanted to share one, as I think doing exercises like this are helpful in pushing oneself to be a better writer, even if the actual thing you write is not that great. The following was written stream of conscious. That is kind of the point, to push the mind in different places and to write about things you normally might not write about. The question for the writing exercise asked me to describe the trees of my childhood. I’m not claiming that the following is anything to be proud of, but I hope that some of you that like to write, and the world needs good writers, will push yourself to try new ways to approach writing.
I used to climb trees on a regular basis. I had a giant maple tree in my front yard. I would swing from the branches like a monkey while my friends and I discussed the things that young boys discussed. The tree was a friend and a place of comfort. Sometimes I would go out to the tree alone and feel as if I was in the company of another.
In the summer the trees leaves were a deep beautiful green. In the Fall they became almost psychedelic as they turned vibrant shades of red and orange. In the winter the tree empty of foliage, but the it still looked alive, like a patient in an induced coma that was going to be woken up once their malady had been cured.
Later on the tree actually did get a malady and had to have some of its branches reduced. My family thought the tree might have to be completely cut down, but it was stronger than we knew. It was great to see this friend overcome it’s hardship.
It did lose the branch that allowed one to access the higher ones. By this time I was no longer light enough for the branches to support my weight anyway. Life changes all. The tree and I were different, but we still had a secret code where I knew we understood each other. In our struggles we had grown strong together. I loved the tree with not just the innocent love of a child, but also with the cold hard respect of an adult.
When people cut down old growth forests I wonder how they can do this. They have no respect for nature. They are cutting down something wiser and stronger than them. They are proving themselves to be nothing but fools. What they do not know is that sooner or later nature will cut them down, and seeds will sprout up in place of the old trees, long after civilization has been dusted off the planet.
In La Rochelle, France
I once walked the crooked streets
In awe of its civilized beauty
Before long I noticed
There were no advertisements
Except the painted store signs
Crafted with careful elegance
By local artisans
Today, as I drove through the mountains
Of western Colorado
Where every bend in the road
Left you awestruck with wonder
It felt good to be free
Of the oppressive billboards
And the garish lighted signs
That fill so many of our cities
If only we had more self respect
We would tear down these aesthetic horrors
This blight upon our culture
And then maybe, even our imperfect cities
Built by the fallen hands of man
Might also stand a chance
Steamboat, Colorado 8/3/14
If I want to possibly catch a glimpse of God
I’ll go out into Hill Country
Where the majestic oaks are more beautiful
Than any art made by man
How many people died raising the pyramids?
How many died building the cathedrals in Europe?
Not one died creating those trees
I’ll tell you where I won’t go
To church on Sunday
Where a person the same as me
No matter what kind of funny outfit they have on
Claims that they have some kind of
Even though it was probably
Passed down to them
By some ancestor
That slew another
In the shade of those trees
I have been knocked out the last few days with allergies. I love nature but sometimes it hates my shit!
Tomorrow I am heading out on tour with Shinyribs. You can check the dates at http://www.shinyribs.org. I have two pretty brutal travel days coming up as we need to drive from Austin to Chicago. After that I hope to resume my normal posting schedule.
I have been laughing my ass off at the show An Idiot Abroad. Check it out if a comedy travel show seems like something you would enjoy.
I have also found that, for someone that has certain introvert tendencies, that I really enjoy canvassing. Who would have thought? I hope to share why at some point.
The right wing still seems batshit insane. I can only hope that reason will prevail and that they will doom themselves in the long run. I was in Tyler, Texas the other day right before a gun rally at a bar. The first guy there was wearing what else but tight cowboy jeans, a Texas flag t – shirt, and a camo hat. I have shot skeet and enjoyed it, I have plenty of friends with guns, I don’t spend much time thinking about guns, but this kind of public display makes me wish every gun in America would be melted down. If you are someone that likes to hunt and believes in 2nd Ammendment rights, I hope you realize this kind of behavior is counter productive. To me it is ignorant behavior that reeks of bullying and intimidation. I am against the militarization of our police and our citizens.
Sorry for my absence for those of you that come here regularly. I will return soon.
In the future when all is well…
Although I can say with all certainty that the new movie Under the Skin is not for everyone, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you want to know what it is about read my review from a few days ago. It is cinema at its best, where imagery is painterly and infused with multiple layers of meeting. One can’t help but look at the world in a new light, at least if you are open to this kind of film. It is a slow movie, but this pace is rewarding as it causes you to contemplate the images being shown.
Scarlett Johansson is an alien, but as this character she forces us to see the world in a way that we might not otherwise. The world, stripped of its context and meaning that we impart on it, is a strange and mysterious place.
One of the interesting things in the movie is the men that she seduces. They have thick Scottish accents. The accents are so thick that at times I had trouble discerning what they were saying. Here they were speaking the same language as me, but they appeared foreign, as if inhabiting some familiar but parallel universe.
Also, the natural world is presented as I believe it really is, as a world we rarely seen in nature documentaries that want to explain and categorize it. Nature is beautiful and enchanting, but it is also dangerous beyond human comprehension on many levels.
Again, this movie is not for everyone. It requires work out of the viewer. In some ways it is more like going to an art museum than the traditional Hollywood fair. However, if you are up to the challenge, you will see something unique. It is if the director, Jonathan Glazer, opened up a small glimpse to the mysterious heart of the universe.
I went to church today. No, I did not go to the place with the stain glass windows and the boring guy at the front. (And before you get all bent out of shape for calling your religious leader boring, let’s just admit that even many of you that go to real church on a regular basis are bored stiff. I once had a friend’s father that used to always fall asleep in church and say he was just, “deep in thought.”) My church is out in nature while listening to music. No one is excluded, no one tells me what to think, and no one is going to hell, except possibly me.
Today I walked through a park in my home town. I came home for three days to celebrate my Dad’s birthday. Spring was in full bloom and the air was cool and crisp. For my sermon I listened to Damon Albarn’s new album Everyday Robots. The beautiful melancholic music perfectly matches early spring here in the North East. Nature and art dance with each other and each enhances the other. I contemplate the mystery and wonder of the universe. Although the land is full of memories for me, I am simultaneously present in the moment. I take my headphones off temporarily and listen to birdsong and the rippling of a stream, the first music in the world.
I understand everyone is different, but I simply don’t need anything else to feel part of something bigger. When I go into a regular church it simply cannot match creation as it stands. As I have traveled the country I often wonder why places that have so much organized religion are often, though not always, places where the land is also being abused by industry. Maybe organized religion is a way to cope with the destruction that we so often bring to the world? Who knows such things…
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking
And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with white clouds flying
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life
To the gulls way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over
Sea Fever by James Masefield. One of the most amazing nights of my life was spent no Cocoa Beach in Florida. My girlfriend and I were drinking beer on the beach and watching an electrical storm out at sea. It was one of those times where you are liable to believe that God is an artist. It was simply one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Nature is not just a resource to be exploited. It is a place where the mystery of the universe becomes slightly more tangible. It is powerful and glorious. Who are we to tamper with such a thing?