Stay Rudimentary

Stay Rudimentary

it is absolute truth

my pause is permanent

by my own choosing

I create superfluously

my tiny indolent poems

defy the fictitious ideal

that stringent commands

must always be adhered to

my divergent impure art

always void of rigid edifice

no hendecasyllables

no quantitative meter

no iambic pentameter

all experimental theatre

all art exhibits tentative

all lectures inarticulate

my engaged credence is

to contrast the full latitude

of stiff rules against instinct

by my own selection

I create disproportionately

to expectations

no shrewdness

no discernments

all temperament

all rebelliousness

no rules

stay rudimentary, kids

**

Greetings from the great Canadian North East!  And it’s raining.  It’s been raining for days and will continue to rain for days.  What is this, England!?  As you can probably tell, I’m none too thrilled with this spring weather.  It was cold enough yesterday for the heat to cut, who has time for that!?  Perhaps I’m just grumpy cat and ranty in part from the weather and equal parts PMS and real life, you know, the usual.  Of course the grass needs the rain but I am in desperate need of a sunny day, both literally and metaphorically.  At least I’ve been writing when time allows.

So yeah, ‘Hardscrabble’ is my current writing venture.  The story of a woman scorned with a colorful vocabulary and a fair bit to say.  That’s all I’ve learned so far.  I’m still listening and getting to know her.  She tends to reveal herself little spurts at a time, either while I’m trying to sleep or too busy at work to give her my undivided attention.  I think she understands though, she’s a writer too and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere and for that I’m grateful.  The process is a total departure from ‘Mute’ where I built the story out of order.  This is more free-flowing and nonsensical which makes sense given her life experiences.  I look forward to see where she’ll take me.  And you.

Simply put, this current poem is an ode to writing sans rules.  You know me, rebel rebel.  Enough said.

While I’m grateful to have had a long weekend last weekend this short work week seems to be inching by at a very slow painful pace.  Not that I want to wish the time away but I so enjoyed not having to wake up to an alarm for three glorious days that I can’t wait to do it again on Saturday morning.  Saturday will be a good day/night.  Dear friends of mine got engaged a little while back and Saturday is their engagement party which means a nip of something alcoholic will be enjoyed along with a good dose of laughter which I always welcome.  A night with friends is never a bad thing.  I look forward to it.  And then next weekend starts the streak of a few really awesome weekends of music with my people!  I’ve got Old Crow Medicine Show and the The Stanfields back to back and Matt Mays on the Halifax waterfront complete with a visit with my buddy from Cape Breton.  Gonna be gooders, all of them. I can’t wait. 

For today, it’s just a poem about writing and rain.  And with any luck a few keystrokes on ‘Hardscrabble’.  I long for a quiet café, a steamy cuppa and my pen.  Maybe one night next week or Sunday.  It’s just one more thing to look forward to.

Enough from me.  Enjoy your Thursday!  Do one nice thing for yourself today, no matter how small.  For my thing, I think it’ll be a long hot bath after an unkind water-logged day. 

In propinquity,

Nic