Oddly enough it is the thing which we fear most that brings us closest to the very essence of life itself. A wolf (any animal really) knows this lesson better than any man or woman ever could. We cower and cry in the shadow of ourselves. I don't deny it. The very letters that I type are personal erected monuments to my own fear, loathing and regret. Death is meaningless beyond our own identity. Life is a state of mind. The imprisoned mockery of persona we display. Who are we to declare ourselves in the presence of something so sharp and so near?

Stupefaction is truly the last bastion the world will posit and therefore possess. "Solace in excess." What other explanation is there for it? What else do we really have to be proud of? Ask us and we will tell you, stupefied or not.
Stupefaction is the key to a life less ordinary. Oddly enough it is also the key to a life less lived.

Here's another one I wrote in my St. Louis days, daydreaming during a class. Goes to show what results not paying attention can yield. I was experimenting a bit with different registers, clumsily I might add. I guess that eventually I'll be forced to stave off my laziness and start writing some new material for this thing. Until then...

Electromagnetic Assertion

An electromagnetic assertion
pretensions slow-wheeling
coaxed into bonafide adventure.
Unlearned compostions propel
the Mystic Continuum.
Glib, but arranged.
Massive, but flaring.
Til Spring we clamber,
in frigidity plummet
both to a groundswell
and a reservoir.
Arise a convincing pioneer.
A benefited narrator.
A quest, a configuration
achieved.

'The true King's murderers are allowed to roam free and a 1,000 magicians arise in the land'

I just finished reading Stephen King's "Eyes of the Dragon." Its strange that so far the books I've liked best by him aren't horror novels at all. This one, which is a fantasy novel, and the other one I really like "The Wasteland," which is a western novel.

Its usually a bad sign if a fantasy novel (or any novel really) has the word 'dragon' in the title. Despite being a little poor on the writing side, this one is quite a page-turner and has a pretty good ending that teaches the value of good manners. The plot makes a point to take unexpected turns on the archetypal fantasy/fairy tale formula, the biggest of which is the Hero slaying the dragon in the first chapter of the epic. The true struggle for the Hero becomes raising his two sons, the protagonists of the story. The true villain is Flagg, the court magician and King's Counselor. The dude is sinister. And sinister in that cold, calculating sort of way. Scheming and manipulative. Creepy.

The book references a line from a Stephen Crane poem that I later looked up. Nothing to do with the book, really. Just thought I'd throw it out there.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

To commence my glorious return to blogging!!! I wrote this in a rush for my creative writing class the day of... ironic that it turned out to be one of the best I would turn in.

Saturday Sun, 7:15 (A Day of Rest)

An exchange of smiles
A setting sun
A herd of chimneys
The smell of a funeral
A whisper of fire
A flicker of sparrows
A garden of shadows
I pass each day.

Very Strange...

Does anyone else find this slightly disturbing?