Before I ever had my part-time relationship with this computer, all my writing was done in cursive in a spiral bound notebook stuffed with post it notes, funny articles, numerous daily horoscope printouts, half finished poems and bar napkins with illegible phone numbers "inadvertently" used to wipe my ass with - real tangible scraps of thoughts that could be easily lost if the wind blew the wrong direction or the gas passed the wrong way (*^_^*)
Since my introduction to the world of blogging, the journaling has somewhat gained order but lost its personal touch. How else can I show you the tear stains on my journal when I wrote of a heartbreak sometime ago or smell the lavender on page 57 of journal #3. Were I to die now though at least the dash in my years will be in chronological order; 1978 - _____. Its the dash in between the years that matters. That's where the juicy details lie.
Recently, I have taken up the pen once again to write down thoughts which offers less space for blogging. Rarely have I transcribed something from a handwritten journal to the screen. Me sharing in this medium of communication is like an on-stage anecdote of my life; whereas the pen and the paper writing style stems more from my soul; a real extension of my thoughts that will remain close, intact and privy to my own viewing pleasure.
Then again, I wrote this on the computer. So what do I really know?
This view is nothing more than a momentary result of sitting in my humble abode, laptop ready to spoon-feed the keys my daily dose of bullshit. I could have written about the pot of barley soup cooking in my kitchen right now waiting for me to stir it for the 5th time. I found out this weekend that the secret to a great Risotto is to stir it in the same direction constantly until done. So I did the same for my hearty soup. The 17 types of beans, vegetables and soy chorizo all doing its perpetual clockwise dance to hopefully create a perfect union otherwise known as - Lunch tomorrow.
I could have also written about how I've been listening to David Gray non-stop for the past couple of evening. He breaks my heart yet I have him on "Repeat All". His music brings with it stories of lost love, unrequited and the yet to be discovered. His music serves as the soundtrack for the romantic periods of my life. Bittersweet, deep, passionate, forgiving, sweet, heartbreaking, discouraging, hopeful, action packed full of verbs called LOVE.
Perhaps on paper this is what would’ve happened - poetry and imagination over rhyme and reason. Yet, the true matter of either is that it’s just entertainment really. My thoughts, and certainly the way they are organized are first and foremost for my own pleasure. In writing I see my life birthing before my eyes in real time. Each letter unfolding one after another - 26 letters arranged in ways that seldom repeat themselves when expanded into words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, and themes.
Writing may align my thoughts and interests with another and help them to fill a hole in their soul. By writing, so long as that person speaks my language, I have a great opportunity to inspire emotion, transformation, education and possibly some kind of action. Other than that, all work truly deserves to be tossed in the recycle-bin as it was just my way of filling time before my soup is done.
While this entire entry could’ve been posted in parenthesis, I remember now that everything is valid and somehow we do serve a greater purpose. If anything, my barley had its audience of one while I type this out. David Gray serenaded me while typing. And you, well – you gave us the time to share it.
So the barley soup and I, and David Gray, we thank you.
Time to sit back and enjoy the simple things in life - less is more
Jakey
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