Write The Light

I am working slowly on my current story.  Little by little.  I wrote a poem yesterday but it isn’t ready for public consumption, not sure I even like it enough to share it.  How does that happen?!  I think it was one of those rare moments where I tried forcing myself to sound inspired and I simply wasn’t.  I was frustrated, wavering between the right and left brain (as Ruthie often talks about) and I have been so rooted in my not so creative rut that forcing it wasn’t making any magic happen.  The silver lining is that I still put pen to paper and wrote something.  No one said you’d always get a masterpiece.  I know, speaking for myself, it takes more than one clear shot to achieve the desired end result.

In addition to the pages of notes I have and the almost 2000 word count on ‘Large-Hearted’ I have also been thinking about it around the clock despite the fact I’ve not made clear progress.  It’s playing like a movie in my head and the narrator seems to really like me, she’s always chattering but she talks faster than I can jot it down.  My hope is to spend some quality time with her over the weekend and see what happens.  There’s simply no excuse to not be writing since I have a computer in my writing room again.  I am thinking I’ll venture out into the world with her though.  Go eat some lunch, drink coffee and eavesdrop on the masses.  Some of my past dialogue/song lyrics/poetry comes from things I’ve heard people say. 

Work has been steady but I did manage to have a bit of fun last weekend despite the long stretch of rain that we’ve been having.  I went to see Matt Mays, it ended up being indoors at the Cunard Center (not really my favorite venue to see a show)  but was still full throttle.  The Red Bull Tour bus is a cool concept.  They basically took a transit bus and converted it into a fully functioning sound stage that has been touring across Canada, hitting the hometowns of the acts slated to play.  For us, they brought it to Halifax for Matt Mays.  He shared the groovy stage with Young River and The Meds and as usual Matt Mays and Co. pulverized their audience with pure rock ‘n’ roll intensity and irreverent emotion.  It is still heartbreakingly apparent they are still mourning the loss of Jay Smith but they leave you with the sense that the power and belief in what they do for a living and their collective hope keep them afloat, further proving music’s powerful ability to heal.  I wonder how long it will be before he can make it through ‘Chase The Light’ without crying.  I wonder how long it will be before I can listen to ‘Chase The Light’ without choking up.  I have a feeling it won’t be anytime soon.  Their sing-a-long for ‘On The Hood’ (one of my favorite singintothehairbrush songs) was so much fun and required skilled audience participation.  Another highlight for me was them pulling out ‘Terminal Romance’.  So so good.  I’ll be seeing Matt Mays again in August at the Shore Club with friends.  I’m pumped for that.  One of my favorite East Coast bands playing in one of my favorite East Coast locations in Hubbards with my best friend and other amazing humans.  It’ll be a time and it’s also something to look forward to.  But, before that, I’ve got Matt Epp’s CD release to look forward to.  He’s bringing his band and an opening act called French Press to The Carleton on June 23^rd.  If you aren’t familiar with him, you should check him out.  Counting sleeps now!

Matt Mays, Red Bull Tour Bus 2013

For now, I’m just happy it’s Friday and when I go home tonight I know I don’t have to wake up to an alarm and with any luck, it’ll be sunny.  Oh, I also have a new kitty.  I call her Lola.  It’ll take some getting used to, to have another furry creature underfoot.  Sookie has been gone for so many years now I’ve forgotten how altogether delightful a pet is and how pesky they can be.  Getting to know her habits and personality will be fun but my sneezing and the fur-balls, not so much; having said that the good far out-weigh the bad so even though she technically isn’t mine, I’ll care for her like she is.

Come ON end of day!  Spend your weekend with people you love doing things that make you happy.

In propinquity,

Nic

Waste Land

Waste Land

barren mind

empty pockets

moral ruin

bankrupt art

desolate heart

you

were my only hope

**

Prose is kicking my butt again.  I started writing a poem this morning (not this one) and then it occurred to me that the lines would work in my new (I said new) short story, titled 'Mute'.  Prose is stealing my poetry!  How rude!  I don't mind so much though because I'm writing, the Muse is active and I'm enjoying this long stretch of creative energy.  

I confess that I've been thinking a little bit more about Greyson (see Half Windsor Knot) and about his back-story.  I feel like I will at some point return to him and hope he'll be more open to telling me what needs to be told.

I'm out of sorts today.  I have a gaggle of butterflies in my tummy and my hands feel sweaty.  I'm on edge for some reason and I can't explain why.  Doesn't help that we've been delivered another blast of wind by way of freezing cold, gusty wind and below zero temps. Braving the wind without earbuds today is going to be simply awful.  Let's pray my goofy winter hat his in the bottom of my work bag somewhere.

I purchased tickets for me and two friends to attend the Jay Smith memorial concert at Casino Nova Scotia on Sunday.  Smith was a young, vibrant musician and human being.  He died while on tour with Matt Mays and it has sent a giant wave of sadness through our community of artists and music lovers out her on the East Coast and across the country.  In loss, there is a tremendous amount of healing power in music.  I just know that room will be full of good humans pulling together in one long song for a fallen brother.  That's when you  know just how powerful music is, in its healing elements, in it's beauty.  One room, one voice, one human heart.

Not a lot to share today other than this teeny poem and the knowledge that I am yet again on another journey with a few new characters.  I am pleased as punch.

Long week, short blog entry.

In propinquity,

Nic