“I don’t do too much blogging
I just run the town, I don’t do too much jogging”


I had some inspiration to blog it up.  I had a very impactful ‘bringing of heads together’ today, and while the details probably would verge on TMI (too much information), it suffices that I say that the juices have started flowing in the brain space.  This is not in light of some confidence boost or any achievement on my part but rather having to take a hard look at some things about myself.  I’ve always said that the people who can disagree with me and express non-aggressively the nature of their contrariness to me, we can build a true friendship.  Well, my bluff was called, there is a little insidious part of myself that needs to be checked, and today I am much more aware of it and this realization has me with the writing itch.

This blog is for the wordsmiths.  Poetry, yeah it still exists, but we used to appreciate our poets.  Maybe we still do, rap artists are the poets we give the notoriety nowadays.  I don’t believe this to be a misled notion, while no doubt there are probably plenty of good poets out there writing profound stuff, there just isn’t a medium for the material to become very well known or have impact.  Or rather, we as consumers don’t flock to the forums poets are using.  Maybe we just aren’t as literarily sophisticated.  But I’m here to say, the dying art of a poems impact is overstated, in our modern time it lives on lyrically.

I used to swear off hip-hop and rap.  Remember the joke, what do u get with country and rap…CRAP!  Well, it’s not true.  Then came forth the rap witch doctors of the underground and my mind opened, my rigidness was made more flexible.  This group was called Swollen Members, the album was their pinnacle achievement “Bad Dreams” .  The clever wit in wordplay began to pop out to me, and the moody beats conjured up the novel emotions you look for when finding new music.

“We always stand guard over the late shift
The cause and effect of the light and the mist
In the world of mixtapes and other sick breaks,
I spit like my life depends on what I make”

Prev One

There is a lot of false bravado in hip hop, but there is this urgency and a raw honesty, like you get down to your survival instincts, your confidence intertwined with your insecurity and you throw it down on a piece of paper.  Testosterone flies but dudes also get REAL with the audience.  Need go no further then Eminems rehab anthem ‘Recovery’, which for anyone struggling or having conquered addiction, this should be a standard of inspiration and triumph.

this excerpt isn’t from ‘Recovery’, but just an example of Em’s individual genius

“I told the world, one day I would pay it back.
Say it on tape and lay it, record it, so that one day I could play it back.
But I don’t even know if I believe it when I’m saying that.
Doubt startin’ to creep in, everyday it’s just so grey and black.
Hope, I just need a ray of that
‘Cause no one sees my vision
When I play it for ’em, they just say it’s whack.
But they don’t know what dope is.
And I don’t know if I was awake or asleep when I wrote this.”

eminem from “I need a Doctor”

Anyone who goes through that process of creating art, you know that feeling of the disconnect between you and the receiver of the message.  But it’s important we shut that inner critic up and try, because great things have come out from those who did.



Beauty in Traffic Patterns

Now and again, I tune into the classical music station.  I actually really like classical.  There is nothing like Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.  My classical listening moments are almost always in my car since I don’t own and haven’t actually purchased any classical compilations.  I’ve had several times I tuned to the proper station during rush hour or on the way home on the main drag here in the Anchorage, AK area (Glenn Highway) and have this coming together of thoughts.  Let me further explain.  Suddenly traffic wasn’t annoying, the string arrangements suddenly bring an aesthetic, art-like flow to mundane life events.  Classical music brought me to an understanding of the beauty in traffic patterns.  You start thinking about how we humans drive hulking metal carriages that careen across rock hard paved streets at speeds in excess of 60 or 70 miles per hour…that’s freaking fast.  The moment is brought to an increased natural artistry with the backdrop of snowy Alaskan mountain peaks.  And if you catch the right time of day coming into Anchorage, you see the sun setting over the Cook Inlet.  This spectacle can be experienced in a variety of degrees as we run a long rock hard pavement in metal carriages (the most unnatural of things it would seem); we can still see the beauty in its synthesis with the raw nature that still exists around us.  Comment on times the same effect has happened for you if you’d like.  PEACE!

Writing to write


I’ve been writing more lately, which is a good thing, it means mood is improving.  Maybe it’s spring coming on, maybe it’s a host of other things just kind of coming together and giving me clarity in my life.  Regardless, I’m just happy the ENERGY is there creatively and the MOOD is leveling out and I’m reaching a point of inspiration.  I’ve always considered myself a writer despite the fact that I’ve taken huge break from the art at various points throughout my life.  But ever since I was a child I wanted to write a book.  I had this little mead journal in 6th grade and inspired by the sci fi styles of Michael Crichton and the awe of seeing Jurassic Park for the first time I wrote “Mammoth”.  It was about a scientific expedition to the Antartic to thaw out a perfectly preserved Mammoth (forego geographical, biological, and scientific inaccuracies) the book was full of action, deception and filled up almost an entire mead journal with my chicken scratchings.  My 6th Grade homeroom teacher would read the material and always seemed genuinely enthrawled, I haven’t even looked back on it to see how truly amature it is.  But that’s not what mattered, at that age something allowed me to be in flow…I wrote in this volume all the time and saw the plot progress and saw characters develop.

The only other thing I’ve seen reach that level of ambition in my creative outlets was a short story for creative writing in high school that later reached 50 pages in the hopes to become some mystery/supernatural/thriller.  It was about a writer named Lawrence Wirthlin who had written some of the most revered fiction of his time and yet was left uninspired for some time.  He eventually has a run in with a women who steals his heart for a day, a quite random interaction.  But it turns out the feeling cannot last, as she is married and informs Lawrence she must return to her normal life, but that she can never thank him enough for one day of seeing things from a new perspective.  Lawrence is crushed (being himself a shy and solitary man) and he begins a new piece of work.  Dark, dense, the story of a man (Teague) so evil and a people who can’t seem to comprehend, nor stop the insidious nature of his powers and avarice.  Only one man is unnaturally linked to the deeds which Teague influences.  He knows where they will be and begins to try and interrupt this assault on his community.  Teague, unknown to anyone but a select number of Priests, is racked with guilt and hatred for his ability to control and influence others to commit acts of evil.  Lawrence, in his fit of intense emotion and flurry of writing unknowingly brings these two characters into his own world.  And the 3 become intertwined in making sense of how these things have happened, what is the nature of their abilities, and how to go forward making purpose of their lives; whether it be good or evil.

Amazing how much I can remember of these works where it has been 8-10 years since I’ve done anything with them.  If anything, I’ll let them be a testament to how much I used to, and still do love writing.  But also a harsh reminder that I don’t write like I should despite where a gift for the art has been granted me.  So I’ve been writing in many a forum lately.  I’m doing this blog, I’ve done journaling, writing lyrics, and rough drafting some portions of a memoir.  All worthy outlets.  Maybe I’ll soon enough come back to the realm of fiction, but real life is equally fascinating.  But not a day goes by still that I don’t contemplate that desire to write a book and have it make a difference for some people, have them be inspired in their own creativity.