Month: July 2011
A word’s worth is subjective
Last night I started mucking around with a challenge that I had not partaken in for quite some time. Not a challenge, per se, but an investment in my thoughts and creativity that I have dedicated elsewhere for a while.
I wrote a poem. Actually, two poems, but that’s besides the point. The last poem I had written was back in March or April. Before that? January. And before that? I can’t recall.
And yet, getting through the words, stringing things together and painting a picture of thought and emotion… well, I had doubts… Doubts that I’d done the job, doubts that I veiled things enough to not seem obvious, doubts that I had crafted a narrative that made sense in constructing a scene and building a message.
Doubts that I could get a reaction from anyone I shared this with.
A gun-shy poet. That’ll never work.
What it’s worth is purely subjective, as the poem itself will say. That applies to more than just writing, but people and things.
A new member joins the Stupid Club fraternity
Amy Winehouse has been found dead. Not a surprise, not in the slightest. She officially becomes another member of the Stupid Club, whose members the pop-culture have immortalized for members contributions to entertainment, as well as their over-indulgence and untimely demises.
A consortium of famous musicians and entertainment industry personalities who died at 27/28 years old.
The journey of the write
When was the last time you sent a letter to someone? I don’t mean a card, I don’t mean paying a bill, I mean a letter. Taking yoru time to write out something — or even print it out — and sticking it in an envelope and sending it out?
I’ve been sending out letters, from time to time, for ages. Usually typed up, which does dampen the personality of the correspondence… But there’s something about a letter in the mail that exceeds electronic correspondence – even if Email, instant messages, social network communication, and even a telephone call are more instantly gratifying.
You take the time, you take the effort, you take the energy to convey what you are thinking – maybe it’s business, maybe it’s personal… Heck, maybe it’s intimate (think about it, guys and girls). It’s something we forget when we greedily rip open a letter and read it’s contents… Â Unless the letter itself is long and winding.
But here’s another piece to think about with a letter: The actual journey. Â Did you ever take the time to think about what your correspondence goes through, where it travels, on it’s way to its destination?
I’ve had envelopes sitting on my desk from time to time in the last few days and months… Â They’ve looked rather monotonous with an address label and return address label stuck on them, the only distinguishing characteristic on them being a number I scrawled on the back of each. Â I’ve had them all ready to go, and then it’s hit me: just what is in store for these things as they travel? Â They weren’t just being sent locally or nationally, but overseas…
A little envelope, a folded and glued piece of paper, containing other pieces of paper, Â due to travel some 5,000 miles or more. Â How many lives touch it? Â How many people see it? Â What does it experience on it’s journey? Â And just what does the recipient think or feel when it arrives? Â How do they react?
This doesn’t tell the whole story of what I am thinking, but it does give some more of an idea what a letter in the mail goes through at sort facilities:
Waiting for Her Word
It’s been months since I posted anything on my personal blog here. Where am I? Is this sitei site dead?
I’m busy more often than not, and no – the Stonegauge is not dead. Â Just dormant. Â When I have been writing lately, it’s been personal and it’s been in the mail (didn’t I once say that it’s great getting letters in the mail?)… Â That or I am doing hockey stuff.
This off-season has afforded me more time for myself (which has been a good and bad thing). Â I’ve found escape in writing, an ability to immerse myself in a thought or idea, or a feeling and a story. Â It’s like a release, as it used to be when I would write a real good poem that conveyed something creatively.
Oh, I’m still doing poetry too. Â Just not much of it, thanks. Â That’s what this post is – a poem. Â Something I wrote a few months ago for an absent face.
