Ashes and Elegies

literary dysfunction

2011-04-05T18:30:00.001-04:00

It surprises me how hard it is to write a column. I got the introductory one out of the way and I thought I had momentum, I thought I could start churning them out, I thought I’d have at least one for every month. It’s been over a month since I posted “Out of the Dry Docks.” I’m currently on my fourth restart, with only 254 words down so far.

At first it was difficult to just pin down something specific to write about. Poetry is a very broad subject, there are so many things to say about it, but it’s also a very daunting subject, even (or especially) for those who write poems.

Eventually, with the help of my friend Patrick, I found a topic. Something to write about that doesn’t need filler like supermarket hamburgers. Then, of course, I have to get the grunt work, the research, out of the way.

I’m lazy, it is not in my nature to be productive. Right now, I should be working on the column, it’s open in another window right now. I was working on it, but I let myself get distracted as I do. Hopefully I’ll find some journalism viagra and get it up soon.

The closing of a decade

2011-02-27T22:34:00.001-05:00

Like most teenagers, I held some absurd notion of a division between my adolescence and the real world. Turning twenty didn’t trigger any fireworks, any obvious signs that I had begun my so called real life. It’s a quant idea that a lot of people like to have, though some are forced to face the truth sooner than the others.

College graduation is the silently agreed upon demarcation of adolescence and adulthood, for those with that privilege. Obviously there are many more who forgo college, whether because they’re having a child, their family needs help, or they’re ill. Of course, some choose to just head straight to the work force, while others, long after college, continue to act like the asshole we all knew in high school.

It’s hard to let go of the delusion of that youthful cushion. I still feel like that kid in school, I still think I’m growing. I didn’t want to realize none of that was true anymore. Even though I’m still floundering to find my own identity, I realize I’m past youthful exceptions, I no longer have any metaphorical shoes to grow into (or real ones for that matter, which I prefer, size 14 is hard to shop for), I need to contribute, I need to shoulder some of that long rebuked responsibility. And while I can still lean on my real cane, I have to stop grasping at the clutch of ignorance and illness.

Now I know all that sound like the usual angst and depression of a teenager, and it sounds like I think there isn’t anything good about growing older and expecting more of yourself. That isn’t true, I think it’s much easier for people to see those things that make them excited for their next birthday themselves, while the more serious ramifications tend to linger in the background like smoke.

Event Horizon

2011-02-22T22:54:00.001-05:00

I always seem to overwhelm myself. I went to the library today to gather up some more research materials, and upon finding the poetry and literary criticism sections I took book after book from the shelves. I was like Gollum in a Mordor jewelry store.

I ended up carrying a stack of books as tall as my torso to a table to sort through them, and try to whittle the number down to something manageable. The fact that the library is only seven or so miles from my house, and that I can return for other books later never found its way to my conscious mind.

So I ended up leaving with seven large books, all the while wishing I had a whole shopping cart full. My eyes are bigger than my belly, though, and I know I won’t be able to digest nearly enough of the material before the due date. Hopefully I’ll remember to take them back when they’re due this time, I’ve paid enough late fees, I don’t want to cough up five bucks before I can renew some of these books like I know I will need to.

And despite all this, despite wanting more books, despite wanting to read enough within these thirty days I’m given, I’ve decided to wait until to tomorrow to start the reading. My excuse? Fresh eyes, fresh mind, and other similar bullshit.

If I could learn a little moderation, I think my procrastination wouldn’t be half as bad as it has been. I constantly stack too many things in front of myself at one time, always wanting to get everything done at once. Maybe I’ll learn to build multiple, small hurtles soon, instead of the massive singularities that usually crush my spirits.

Technorati Tags: Poetry,A Pilgrimage Through Poetry,R. Kyle Norris,Research,moderation,black holes

Look It Up

2011-02-22T00:18:00.001-05:00

I recently started researching for my Xenith column. I mean, when the idea for the column was first offered to me, I started doing some research, but it wasn’t much. I went to the library, checked out a few books, read a few essays and poems and forgot about the books until they were two months overdue.

Now I’m really researching, looking through every poetry anthology and literary magazine I own. I dug up my parent’s copies of the Harvard Classics, which have now enthralled me. I’m constantly looking for articles on the internet, I’m returning to the library soon, this time to actually use more than a smidgen of the thoughts contained in the pages I borrow.

I’m constantly writing down thoughts on the Springpad app on my phone, I have sticky notes stuck to the border of my monitor. All of this research cause a resurgence interest in writing, for both new ideas and the improvement of old.

I’m thinking of publication again, and now I actually want to take my time on things. I want to fill in the background and feel out the idea before I move beyond the initial Aha! moment. Yes, often when inspiration strikes you go beyond the idea and begin construction. I did that when I recently started writing a novel. Now I’m using the initial passionate pages along with long thought out notes to construct a detailed outline, so as to guide the fervor that is bubbling up.

All of this work has left non-research books gathering dust. So I’m still finding a grip on this newly rekindled flame, and I need achieve balance lest the fire go out or burn me. I’m sure being sick and stuck in the house with nothing else to do hasn’t helped, and as I get better and am able to get out and do things, that balance should be easier to attain.

Also, I quit smoking. So fuck you RJReynolds, I’m reclaiming my lungs. And about fifteen hundred bucks or more a year.

I look forward to my coming literary adventures.

finally, an office

2011-02-05T17:37:00.001-05:00

My office is a go, right now it only houses my computer and desk, but it’s a start. I plan to organize both my bedroom and this room over the coming week. Once I get all my books, papers, files, and other (random) things sorted, I portend this room will see a lot of writing.

Eventually, I hope to do more here. I want to change its atmosphere into something comfortable and conducive to the creative process. By this I don’t mean I want to sit/lay in a massage chair in silk pajamas with my hands half-heartedly resting on a velvet keyboard. No, I mean I want to look around this room and find inspiration to write, and comfort when I can’t. I want to push this place and have it push back.

I know this anthropomorphizing surpasses hyperbole, but sometimes you need things to be hyperbolic. I know I do. Sometimes it’s too hard to stomp through the murky mundane, sometimes that carrot in front isn’t enough, so you must make it enough, you must see your personal Eldorado ahead. That is what I intend to do, head towards that gold, one foot in front of the other.

A day

2011-02-05T00:43:00.000-05:00

The reinvention of self is something I've wanted and attempted many times. What starts as a growing balloon of enthusiasm, pushing through those first and smaller obstacles, soon deflates. It's sadder than the violent pop expected.

Despite this, I'm once again picking up the eraser and the pencil, trying to change the lines of my face. No balloons this time, I'm taking small steps. I'm swallowing the disappointment that rises when I only half complete a task.
This time there isn't a tomorrow when I can finish. I let everything blend into one unyielding day. A day to deal with my pain and pestilence, a day to do both the literal and metaphorical laundry, a day to prepare my office and all the tools to work with, a day to collect my thoughts and look through them with my ego, and most importantly, a day to sit down with my soul, a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, sighing with a new contentment. Then there's night, there's rest.

I make no promises to you nor myself. While I know I will accomplish my goals, I do not know when. It is that idea that stumped me so many times before. I have always expected quick and dramatic change, and so I give up when I see the drudgery I must trudge through.

It's going to be a long day.

And we're off

2011-02-01T14:46:00.001-05:00

Like a legless dog in a race I get to watch the progress of others, as well as some mud in my face. My computer is still an issue, writing longhand isn't an option: my hand cramps too easily.
Once I get an office set up, along with a monitor to replace my laptop's broken screen. So, my laptop will now be a desktop, on a desktop, though on top of which desk I don't know. The desk currently wasting space in my room I received many, many Christmases ago, when my legs were much, much shorter.
Once I fix my computer and cure my malaise, I will sprout some legs for the race.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

The Boy Who Never Had Anything To Be Responsible For

2010-12-02T02:08:00.001-05:00

I'm afraid of responsibility, plain and simple. And its weird, because that phobia is the inverse of my personality and what I want. What do I want? Simply listed, I want: to regain some semblance of a personal life, to go to school, to get an okay job, to get my own place, and to finally stop waiting for things to happen for me. I want to take charge as I have done before in my most manic states, but I want it to be more permanent than a peak in my bipolar EKG.

I'm beginning, now, to start taking charge again, even if only in small matters first. The past year has been one paramount paradigm shift for my family and I, and the dust is nowhere near settled yet. Right now, more than ever before, I'm actually needed by my family.

But aside from these newly found familial responsibilities, I've found myself taking on more personal hurdles. I've vowed to begin a documented journey with my poetry, and I've already started, actually researching as I promised. As the new year approaches, and I begin to resolve my fear of responsibility, I hope, now, I will finally start taking hold of what I often call the beginning of my "real life." I wont attempt to draw any definitive, long-term picture, but I will begin to sketch the path.

Soon, I will be the main bearer of the responsibilities of this houses upkeep, I will help watch my nephew as well as my own dog and the other three here. I hope to break free of this mental cross with less than an imaginative stigmata, and finally forge ahead, out of this long stagnant section of my life.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Beginning a Pilgrimage

2010-11-21T15:20:00.001-05:00

I've been reading essays on poetry just now. I'm preparing for the first installation of my new column A Pilgrimage Through Poetry. It's a little arduous to read so slowly, slow enough to write down certain ideas from time to time.
When it was first suggested I do this, while I immediately accepted, I wasn't sure how I would do this or if I could learn or say anything worthwhile about poetry. Already I've discovered ideas that I didn't consciously know, things I never really tried to understand. Now, after only a little research thus far, I already know that this journey will leave me a much better poet and my audience an abundance of advice/knowledge.
I think my first article will be up in January, so keep an eye out for it.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Crawling Up Inside a Cocoon

2010-10-31T19:06:00.001-04:00

Since I thought I’d attempt some regularity with this monstrosity, I figured a general update would be in order. So, for those few of you who accidentally clicked my link, or some how found this otherwise, here’s how things are going and how things shall be.

I shall be moving from this wretched state (SC) sometime. We don’t know when yet, as it all depends on my dad’s job, but I’m guessing I’ll be in Florida next summer. It’s still the southeast (meh) but at least is isn’t South Carolina.

For those of you unfamiliar with my medical woes: I have been perpetually sick since I was 11, I’ve had joint and body pain for over two years, tremors and tics for about a year and a half, and just feel shitty a lot. (If through my idiocy possible employers see this: I am still quite capable, and since I applied to work at your store I am sure I can handle the load) Recently, thanks to a close family friend, I’ve found a possible culprit for most of my malaise: XMRV. I plan to send off for a test kit soon, and while there isn’t really any treatment for it, I’d love to finally know what the hell is wrong with me.

At current, I’m trying to escape the trend my illness has caused. I want to escape perpetual inactivity, which is where this blog comes in. When one aspires to a writing career as I do, one must use it or suffer losing ones edge. This place acts as a whet stone. I hope to update at least once a week, with an extra entry here or there. I’m not setting a regular day for updates as I know I won’t keep to it, so just subscribe and keep eyes peeled. Another area of the web i inhabit, Xenith, host my column The Taciturn which I recently updated.

I will be trying my hand getting my poetry and fiction published, as well as going to school to get some of the more boring credits out of the way for cheap and find a job.

I know this entry was dry compared to my last, but I have one last thing to add to it: I am going to upload a new picture once a month, to show how I change from here on. This month’s is pretty low quality, so I apologize. And no, my teeth are not that color, I’ve no idea why the camera made them look that way.

Also, Happy Halloween.

Technorati Tags: xmrv,writing,xenith.net,the taciturn,R. Kyle Norris

Technorati Tags: Rodermus

The Hippie’s Koan

2010-10-28T19:16:00.001-04:00

It’s been a long while since I’ve last updated this dusty excuse for a blog. I’m just not good with responsibility, or at least when i feel no motivation for it. If I’m getting paid or there’s a risk reprimand, then sure, I’m the most responsible motherfucker out there.

Those aren’t my only motivations of course, and I’m not quite as bad as that picture made me out to be. Obviously, there are things I actually want to do, but I don’t always find it easy to keep motivated with those activities either. I’m a procrastinator to the nth degree. This pallid place represents just that. I identify myself as a writer, you would think a blog would be the perfect home to my conceit, that I’d update multiple times a day, and that I’d be kicked off twitter for preventing tweens from getting their dose of Beiber. This just isn’t the case.

I used to always lump my inability to do anything all on procrastination, but it isn’t that simple. You see, the problem isn’t that I put things off, but that I never do them. It’s my personal plague.

I often find new things I’d like to do, new projects for old hobby’s, and improvements that I just need to do. I start these things, most times, then the next day when I should continue working on said projects, I slack off, and so it is again and again until I give up.

I’ve done just that with all these things: getting a guitar and trying to learn to play;making trinkets from leather crafts; I bought art supplies and used them maybe five times; reading all the great literature I said I would; looking for a job; keeping my room decent; writing this blog regularly; writing a column regularly for Xenith; writing short stories and poems for publishing; writing a novel (four attempts and counting).

As you noticed, most of the above list pertains to my writing activities. No doubt it would, as that is what I aspire to make my life with. I want to pound the literal and proverbial keyboards ‘til I die.

To be fair to myself, I must paint an even picture. My life is not only filled with these monotonous months of mourning over what I should be doing.

No, I often have moments, surges, of action. Right now would be a prime example: Aside from writing this blog (in itself a miracle), I wrote what I consider to be one of my best poems, I began preparations to start school anew (seeing what all I needed to apply), I’m finally prepared to see my doctor with the new research I’ve found on a possible cause of all my pain and sickness, and I have set forth in motion other writing projects as well as posting a new column on Xenith (a two parter, with part two coming Monday).

There are better examples, especially back when I was employed.

So, my synopsis of my psychosis is thus: my activity level is just like my mind, bipolar. I’m either hyperactive and pleased if not stressed, or inactive and apathetic but still stressed (by the inactivity and apathy).

The obvious answer to my predicament: strike a balance. But, doing so, as you know, is always easier said. But, I have a proposed solution to the impracticality of achieving the preceding solution. I must let this newest burst carry me forward, until I arrive at a place where I am comfortable enough with my progress to relax a little. To be zen: doing just enough to be happy.

the lights fantastic.

2010-05-21T03:46:00.000-04:00

My new candle set up for my smoking station.

2010-05-12T04:12:00.001-04:00

Insomnia striked again; too much caffiene, arg. if i could only have one good nights sleep...i am damned nocturally.

This message has been sent using the picture and Video service from Verizon Wireless!

To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.

Note: To play video messages sent to email, Quicktime@ 6.5 or higher is required.

Leather is Better

2010-03-09T23:06:00.000-05:00

So yeah, oh my god, another blog so quickly, and that is because--SURPRISE--it's another video blog. I went and got a lot of leather supplies and tools, because after making one ghetto
wristband out of an old belt and an id fastener, i decided i wanted to do more, and make them better, nicer. I got two cheap bundles of
leather and some
leather working tools, tomorrow, i shall begin my work.

On a side note, almost completely unrelated to this post and video: for my birthday i got an
extremely nice pen and
leather journal.

Video Blog!

2010-03-08T21:34:00.002-05:00

2010-03-03T03:02:00.001-05:00

starting care less and fucking less. i'm fucking tired of my pain and how much shit just continues to fall on my family. i want give up and lay down forever.

2010-01-28T21:34:00.001-05:00

Taking anepsolm salt bath at the moment. My joint pain struck again in my knees, hurting the wrost it has in some time. The bath is actually helping a good bit, though i am kind of bored, hence this blog. Also, I reallly want a smoke.

This message was sent using the Picture and Video Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.

Note: To play video messages sent to email, QuickTime� 6.5 or higher is required.

Home Improvement

2010-01-21T18:20:00.001-05:00

I finally started sleeping on a slightly more normal schedule, in other words, not nocturnal. I hope this means I’ll start getting more things done in many aspects of my life. I want to write regularly again, explore new music styles and artist, read more and read new books, get out more, exercise, get a job; and a whole slew of other things too numerous to mention.

I started slowly, and I think that’s okay. For instance, today I woke up at about two in the afternoon, ate a good breakfast/lunch, had a shower, visited my writing site, listen to a good bit of new music, and I’m writing this. It may not seem like much to anyone who doesn’t know me well, but it is a great leap forward from a nocturnal schedule of bad TV and showers way too far apart. After dinner I will watch a little TV, then do some reading and hopefully some brainstorming for a new story idea, maybe even a little outlining, nothing much.

Being a veteran of many failed attempts to right the skewed axis of my life, I know better than to expect too much from myself. I know even a small smattering of victories on a languorous schedule is better than no improvement at all. So, if I can keep myself from becoming frustrated at my slow pace, maybe it’ll stick this time. Maybe. I’m almost nineteen; I really need to stop leeching off my parents.

Autopsy of the Last Letter

2010-01-05T23:23:00.001-05:00

My family watched a B movie earlier tonight, The World’s Greatest Dad, I think. Robin Williams the only noticeable face in the whole thing, was, of course, the main character. A teacher at his son’s school.

I didn’t watch the whole thing, but, eventually his son accidently dies via auto-erotica asphyxiation. Since the father is the first to find the body, he covers up this fact: clothes his son, deletes all the porn from the computer, and even writes a suicide note to wrap it all up in a pretty package.

It’s funny, obviously, and a little poignant too. A parent has to love their child very much to clothe their naked bodies, especially if they died masturbating. Worse yet, the suicide not gets out, and where nobody cared for either Williams’ character or his son, they now all love them. The Father gets the love he wanted and such. I didn’t finish watching it. Not that it was bad, but I preferred to go watch scrubs.

But it brings up an interesting question: what kind of suicide note would you write for a loved one? For the sake of the exercise, let’s say a loved one did kill themselves, however, left no note. You, being the first to discover the obvious suicide write a note so that the rest of the family and friends will feel better, can grieve easier.

How would you go about doing that? It’s no secret that I attempted suicide once, and luckily changed my mind before too late. And I did write a note. I wrote the names of my parents, siblings, my best friend, and my (then) girlfriend down on a piece of notebook paper, and simply said, “I’m sorry.”

Would you follow such a simple structure, or, as in the movie I mentioned, would you create some character in your head, and then from that perspective, write the note. Because you couldn’t know how the deceased felt, your note would be fiction. Would you be up to that criteria?

Having written my own once, I wouldn’t know what to do.

The Valleys in City Skylines

2009-12-18T01:37:00.001-05:00

I recently took a trip to New Jersey to attend a New York Giants Game. Along the way there, as we passed through larger cities, I noticed a trend in the construction of these places. A trend that everyone knows is there on some level, but is better realized when actually seen.

For every high-rise, skyscraper, new fast-food place, and interstate interchange these cities contained, were many more slums and ghettos of gutted buildings and alleys you’d never want to walk near. I wrote before on the condition of my town, and the area of broken down structures it has, and how I saw it spreading. But that holds a fickle flame to the level of degradation I witnessed in these far bigger places.

The big cities that so many dream of living in aren’t the magical gleam in your eye that slews of people imagine them to be. But beyond that single fact, beyond the depressing, ruined state of structures that pit these metropoli, stands a trend far more worrisome.

These Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde cities represent the real state of the world. Each gleaming, steel supported, modern sky scraper, with its offices, trendy health food stores and Starbucks is vastly outnumbered by the sickly slums the border its few blocks. Just as each industrialized, high GDP country drowns in the volume of the starving masses neglected by those majority of third world countries. For each State where the water is safe to drink, five or more wouldn’t bet on their water supply.

So, each time you enter a city, and especially if you live in one, remember what each lower class neighborhood stands for, remember how many starving people one hobo represents.

There’s an Exit Here

2009-11-06T10:56:00.001-05:00

It’s a strange experience to go out and actually socialize after playing the hermit in my house for far too long. I stayed in so long, in fact, I got a certain thrill of just hanging out with my friends at another house.

I didn’t even drink and still had a great time, despite the pain. And even though I only recieved two or three hours of sleep last night, I’m feeling much better today than I have in a while.

And now today, though I’m writing outside of a coffee shop in the slight cold, sipping coffee and smoking my usual cigarettes—beyond this sterotype I have no compunction slipping into—it’s nice to be out, and it’s to be able to write, to communicate something.

My dry wells of creativity are slowly gurgling to life again, and who knows, maybe I’ll actually edit the story of mine I printed out the other day, the one I’ve been working on for three years now.

Now I know this isn’t a normal post for me, as I’ve tried to stray from the personal in this blog, it seemed necesarry to shout this out somewhere.

Now if only I can keep it up, and find a fucking job.

poems in l33t

2009-11-02T04:29:00.001-05:00

i'm not quite sure why people need to be able blog from their phones. i can somewhat understand blogging via e-mail, but phones? what's the hurry?
and yes i'm doing it right now, maybe to prove a point. in such limited characters, what worthwhile blog can created? there's hardly room to make much of a point. with this small place one can't write something meaningful to captivate a reader, move them, and sling plysyllables to make them think.
no, it's merely convience to prattle shorlty about oneself, but then i suppose a blogger actually trying to make his blog something good wouldn't resort to this.
which kind am i? (i have trouble with capitalization when using a phone, i'm too lazy)
maybe this post makes the point or maybe it makes me another prat whining from a smaller keyboard to the few people who might read this. but i though i'd give it a chance.
and also, i'm bored, haha.

This message was sent using the Picture and Video Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.

Note: To play video messages sent to email, QuickTime� 6.5 or higher is required.

2009-11-02T03:33:00.001-05:00

just bored at the moment, trying this mobile blog thing out.

Dont give me that do goody good bullshit

2009-09-12T05:55:00.001-04:00

After recently deciding to quit my job, tired of the bullshit, I just started thinking of the retarded necessity of all the economic systems out there.

Because money is privatized, largely it is controlled by the banks and largely nonexistent, it always set the way for these waves of recession and progress. If banks had to have a 100% of the money the claim the say in their banks at all time, they couldn’t operate. The credit they make isn’t money ever coined by the treasury, but just more numbers on their computers. Andrew Jackson killed the state bank and in doing so, fucked us.

I mean, what is money? A recognized means of exchange, accepted for items or services, it doesn’t need any backing so long as people recognize it collectively as having its value. Therefore, if the governments of the entire world controlled their money in this way, recessions would be easy to fix, there would be little to no inflation, and that little inflation easily fixed.

Capitalism could still exist in this type of economy, and current style banks could exist mainly to run high risk ventures. But everything would work well, because money isn’t the cash in your hand, the numbers behind your checks and debit cards, or what the ATM screen tells you, it is just an abstraction.

An abstraction created to deal away with an inefficient barter system.

This theory is not mine, I first heard of it in Mr. Heinlein’s first novel but last published, For us, The Living. And he heard of it from economist in his day, and I’m sure the idea is older than that. But too many people fear it, for what reason, I do not know.

Insomnia Faces

2009-07-14T02:51:00.001-04:00

I'm insomniaing away my cigarettes. i keep waking up in the middle of dreams: one where i was giving a lecture at a class, one where i though i was getting off a bus and found myself somewhere else (don't know where), and the most normal, i though i heard my phone going off but it was just, again, a dream
If i have any secret fans with money, please donate to my paypal. I think I I'll run out of cigarettes before my first pay check.

that being said, i do look good for being repeatedly woken up.