Sunday, August 20, 2017

Begging Bowl



I should be ashamed of myself for neglecting my blog for so long. But, it isn't because I haven't been writing. I am still going full steam ahead with my year-long writing project, still maintaining my one page per day. I started January 1st and it's now the 20th of August; I have written 300 odd pages with an abundance of blood, sweat, tears, laughter, frustration, joy, and inspiration. I owe it all to a few select people, they know who they are, and I owe it to myself, for pressing on, for putting in the work. It's an extraordinary journey, I love these characters, I love peeking in on their lives, and I love that I was the one chosen to help them tell their story to the world. Mind you, so far, there's only one friendly reader who is invested. I don't know the rest of world will ever read it but it is my hope. 

I wrote today's page while listening to a radio station from Freddy Town, NB. They are playing the Tragically Hip's discography, commercial free, as it's the one year anniversary of their last show in Kingston, ON. It is fitting since my protagonist is a huge Hip fan, as am I. Her kitty's name is Gord Downie Cat. Go figure.

In today's page, Sillyheart attends a 'poetry in the park' event planned and hosted by a her charming and unavailable crush, Elias Silver. This is the poem she reads on one of the open mic stages:

Begging Bowl

silver penned poets
convene around the
begging bowl with
their small habits
their serious hopes 
awaken the belated
defeat of innocence
through the nibs of
their sad ball-points
cautious engineers
construct a tangle
of inspired queries
until the sun clouds
over and the moon
rises high overhead
silver penned poets
assemble around the
begging bowl with
beckoning powers
their timeworn rites
their staid faiths &
volume of gladness
delivered outward
to reach the broken
hearted hangers-on
to heal & reconcile

***

The most amazing thing about this whole project is when I feel the extremes of loneliness in my daily life, they rescue me from it. It's one of writing's super powers. The same can be said for reading a book. Art is everything. 

In propinquity,
Nic