And then there was the blank page along side the thoughts of doing something that might have some intrinsic value to someone other than myself. Perhaps (i love that word) not, too (love using this word also) who cares.
Just an excersise in futility. Getting all the old cliche phrases out on the table. Futility or not, I like to write and coming across this site on StumbleUpon I thought it might be interesting to be reminded everyday to write something. I couldn't get any easier. When I log into my Google Account, a blank page passively appears upon the screen, and my mind begins aggressively to remind me that writing for me is good for my spirit. I remember when I first started writing back at the Met Opera Guild, during my stint as receptionist. Every day page upon page would be scribbled out. Alot of times loosing myself in deep passages of childhood memories. At the time I had started working with Michelle ......., therapist up on 81st street. We were together for about I would say a good three years.
So thats where my writing began. I even discovered I had a voice othen than for singing, so Michelle often said, after reading to her a portion of scribble which in and of itself was no easy feat. I just don't get it. I went to Catholic schools when they still were populated with hormone raging battleaxes. I will admit a couple I had very found sentiments towards but for some reason I missed the catholic cursive. I like poetry, often times I could really get to the core of feelings and thoughts with the short phrases dressed in the architecture of no capitals, periods, and lots of dashes. I will most likely more often than not, if I can keep this going for any length of time other than a midnight deviation from 2012 conspericy youtube sites, place many dashes and commas upon these pages. Forget the capitals, this is pure vermont country boy and he's enjoying the ride up and over the keys, missing, correcting, figuring and totaly being....in this monderful moment
where- for a brief spot
a few heart beats
deep breaths
-thoughts and feeling come together
put on this page
to rest.
Just an excersise in futility. Getting all the old cliche phrases out on the table. Futility or not, I like to write and coming across this site on StumbleUpon I thought it might be interesting to be reminded everyday to write something. I couldn't get any easier. When I log into my Google Account, a blank page passively appears upon the screen, and my mind begins aggressively to remind me that writing for me is good for my spirit. I remember when I first started writing back at the Met Opera Guild, during my stint as receptionist. Every day page upon page would be scribbled out. Alot of times loosing myself in deep passages of childhood memories. At the time I had started working with Michelle ......., therapist up on 81st street. We were together for about I would say a good three years.
So thats where my writing began. I even discovered I had a voice othen than for singing, so Michelle often said, after reading to her a portion of scribble which in and of itself was no easy feat. I just don't get it. I went to Catholic schools when they still were populated with hormone raging battleaxes. I will admit a couple I had very found sentiments towards but for some reason I missed the catholic cursive. I like poetry, often times I could really get to the core of feelings and thoughts with the short phrases dressed in the architecture of no capitals, periods, and lots of dashes. I will most likely more often than not, if I can keep this going for any length of time other than a midnight deviation from 2012 conspericy youtube sites, place many dashes and commas upon these pages. Forget the capitals, this is pure vermont country boy and he's enjoying the ride up and over the keys, missing, correcting, figuring and totaly being....in this monderful moment
where- for a brief spot
a few heart beats
deep breaths
-thoughts and feeling come together
put on this page
to rest.
