We’ve seen those soft, delicate, subtle artforms that can move us with a few sweeps of a brush, or a soothing, melodic tune, producing tranquility, bringing us to a peaceful state of mind almost instantly... warm tones and gracious beauty... the arts that come to mind being painting, sculpture, poetry, music, dance, and so on… But what about those wild emotions that exist deep in our core? Should we suppress these feelings, and allow them to stay dormant in us for time immemorial? Or can we display power through our art, and simultaneously perform a type of releasing self-therapy?
So, I bought my ticket at the station. There must have been five thousand freakin people in that place. Every type of fried food was available; filling the air with a tempting aroma. Screaming babies, kids running around like maniacs, and adults acting like typical adults, patiently waiting for the buses to come in, listening to the call of the conductor’s assistants yelling and naming off the various destinations. And there I was, with my few bags, my slacks, my spectacles, my panama hat. Everything I needed to begin this new adventure.
“The first thing you have to realize before we undergo on this path is that everything around is okay, you are okay, I am okay, Joe´s house is okay, Jessica and the pill dealers are okay, Jimbo isn’t okay, but we will bring him to the sacred land of okay eventually with some effort, the earth is okay, everything, generally speaking is okay, do you understand this overall okayness?” He said this in a low raspy struggling yet poetic voice, and then a huge puff of smoke left his mouth, and he coughed so hard that the bed shook beneath them,
Writing is just like one of those strange, elusive cats that stalk the outskirts of remote jungle villages in the heart of Papua New Guinea. While tribesmen munch on roots inside thatch huts and reminisce about hunting campaigns, smashing clubs on bamboo floors, and shaking shells ritualistically in harmony with the calls of nature that can be heard just outside their primitive homes, the cats growl from the thick bush, filling any listener with great wonder...
Writing is a purely magical experience. The way it seems to be born from nothing, floating in from out of the blue. Words appear on a page, and ideas, concepts, and visions take shape before us. Writers use conscious and subconscious powers to weave words together until they form a complete whole. Analyzing and judging each letter - every punctuation mark. Their precise placement upon the page. Their overall appearance. Some artists paint with oils, acrylics or watercolors, but writers paint with words. Words which generate images within the reader’s mind.
It's the most precious thing. Nowadays, we all look at content online and before clicking judge how much time it will take to consume. If it's long, we analyze its worth, using reviews from other consumers as a guide. Whatever is most popular (has the most clicks/hits/reviews) will surely be worth our time, right? As a budding writer, my goal is to express myself in a manner that doesn’t make you feel like you wasted your time.
What is this thing that curses the minds of countless ones? The thing that stalks us and follows us wherever we may be? Closing our eyes and paralyzing our fingers. Preventing any form of creativity to be released from within. Holding it there. Almost like a prisoner within a cell... There he is inside, begging, screaming, going absolutely berserk at this thing. This entity-like nuisance smacks him in the face, breaking his teeth, pushing him down.
I really can’t stand clickbait. When I see something online with an eye-catching image and headline that entices me to click on it, to unravel the seemingly indispensable life-changing content, I become disgusted. Because after clicking such a link, I realize that I was essentially tricked and cheated. The folks that employ clickbait into their arsenal of web-promoting business tactics are the worst to me. Duping countless ones
Seeing that my last post about the incredible, thought-provoking book House Of Leaves had such a positive response, I decided to share another excerpt here. This remarkable passage is about a moment in the main character's journey where he must burn a book down to its very last page in order to finish reading it. This is so beautiful and dramatic to me, that no matter how many times I read it, I seem to learn something new and get in touch with odd feelings of emotion and wonder that are practically indescribable
We argue about an infinite amount of topics, some of which are crucial to life and the stability of our current system and others with an insignificant amount of long-term relevance, but they nevertheless spark debate and controversy, attracting many to endlessly discuss and argue without apparent logic, contributing to strong emotional and offensive behaviors.
I’ve been happily reading the House of Leaves (published in March 2000) for the past few months. A book which has gained legendary status because of its unconventional style and format that has left many readers in deep fascination and respect for the author Mark Z. Danielewski who spent years to create this impressive and artistic work. HOL has an international popularity and appeal, with translations in a number of different languages and college courses dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the House.
On the Road by Jack Kerouac is one of America's most loved and cherished novels of the twentieth century. Its beautiful and poetic prose has been admired and has inspired countless artists and writers from around the world like The Beatles, Jim Morrison of The Doors, Lana Del Rey, Allen Ginsberg, and Hunter S. Thompson..
Hi friends, I created this motivational post for one of the writing groups that I’m a member of. Even though the advice was meant for writers, I think it can also be applied to other disciplines and pursuits. How many of us let the fear of failure and rejection dictate our actions, paralyzing us from attaining what we truly wish to achieve? I encourage you to give this post a read and meditate on its meaning.
Hi friends, I wrote this poem to inspire writers, but I think the lesson here can be applied to any art form or worthy work. Enjoy! When daytime turns to nighttime and the hours creep past as shadows along the walls intricate crevices I reach a place of creativity where the words begin to sparkle and shine within my mind. Traveling at hyper speeds from my brains’ stem, to the linear patterns of my fingerprints, to a sheet of white
Many of us instinctively judge everyone and everything that we come across. When someone says something that we disagree with we automatically put them into a specific category and base all our future interactions with this person based on their view which we don't agree with. This, in turn, creates divisions and limits our chances to see the world from the perspective of another.