Woke up, Morning Ritual, water, cold oatmeal, coffee I didn’t drink, setup recording, record voice work, edit, work on blog.
The blog is becoming a thorn of burden over the past two days. Coming up with the content and facing the learning curve of everything that goes on behind the scenes of a blog, I’m not getting much else done. One day set back has taken me two to three days of catchup. Other areas of the project are hurting and I'm blogged down.
Time is spent looking for articles to read, searching for voiceover stories or excerpts to record, finding pictures that best fit and editing pictures. Blog material is decision stuff which means it’s not a set task that I can crunch like numbers and finish. Sometimes the writing takes time to shape, sometimes it gets scrapped and I start from scratch.
Photo editing is a huge time hole. It’s like a billion decisions in five minutes. For someone who has difficulty with decisions like that, it's sucks your soul. Something about the blog is changing the meditativeness of my first days here. I’m not quite sure why yet. Probably, all the cool stuff I want to do is taking a back seat to one thing. And the last thing I want to do is be on Facebook and social media. It's not a place I feel happy or inspired. I look outside, look back at the computer and Facebook feels like the anti woods. It's difficult to market myself publicly. It's a weak spot for me. Love creating, don't love the business/ 'look at this' aspect yet and that's part of what I'm here to get better at. Social media wins this round, but I'll be back, or not be back because I'll align with someone who enjoys handling this shit while I'm in the woods.
Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown
Illustrated by Clement Hurd
I needed something good, something fast and something that wasn’t going to let me down. This book is still popular. Popular enough that it may even be uncool for me to read it. That’s ok. I’m done recording for the day and have some fond feelings from childhood swirling around. This is my nephews favorite book too, which is cool. You can write 70 or so words and impact children and adults for generations. Same for the illustrations. Wild. Get wrawing.
Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown,
read by Cliff Kuhn-Lloyd
Much time is spent reading halves of articles that end up not holding the light I need. After a few of these, sometimes I have to settle, the day is short. After going through a lot of articles on artists and self acceptance I searched for a Charles Bukowski interview, knowing in some way the topic would apply.
It centers around Bukowski’s success in Germany comparatively with the U.S. and his impassioned correspondence with Carl Weissner, his German translator.
Bukowski could be argued as a great example of self acceptance or a critical self debaser. If you’re a great critical self debaser and you accept it, what does that make you?
He seemed mostly honest though. He didn’t hide his darkness and if anything he exploited it. Still he wielded the power to make you see the beauty he had access to interpreting. He had the gift of a great artist, to intrigue you with how he uniquely experienced the world. He had insight into how to effectively express a universal understanding of beauty through his own experience of it. Interesting that we look for artists who express what we relate to in unique ways. How differently and piercingly can you express what I already feel?
There’s a lot to think about with Bukowski. He embodies the common man and simultaneously the exception. I think about how much talent is from an individual and how much is from a greater source. When people say you’re special, do you rely on that, lean on it? Special in relation to someone less special? Bukowski’s like Don Bell who’s obituary I wrote about on Day 5, only Bukowski's gift is more tangibly apparent and public.
Whatever way is up, if you’re not familiar with Bukowski, he’s worth a read. If you’re looking to start journaling or expressing yourself through writing, he’s a human flame poised to ignite your gasoline soaked rags of soul.
When I made it out, the sun had gone down and the light was slipping away. The sky was quiet colors and the white stone shores of the islands stuck out against the dark pines above. Tide was low and you could see how the islands were built. I walked down in the seaweed to the water where pieces of orange lobster sparked the brown-green rocks. A blue heron flew over me and some ducks came to visit while the season's last mosquitos enjoyed my passiveness. The islands are reassuring to look at and hard to capture. They give the feeling that there's still unknown in the world and adventure to explore.
There was no need to worry about me drowning in the water
We never even got to it
Stood by the faded yellow Saab and put our hands on our hips
Pointed here and there and put our hands in our hair
Not everything will fit
So I sat on the bumper and lit a smoke
You looked away
That was the best part
To take that drag in peace
Then I knew you’d look back
You looked back
The rest was just alright
I snubbed it out and ripped off the filter
Rested it on the bumper
You looked down at it
You looked away
That was a great too
I like having my time
Time to myself in a place I don’t get much is heaven
You thought it was just you?
I was just amicable and loved you
Not much even goes through my head
I look at the leaves or the dusty pebbles
And it feels like I have no shoes on by the river
The world is at school
And the whole place is mine
Strut around like a king
Thrust my face to the sky
Cool grass and soft dark bank between my toes
Sit back against the tree
And grow to be a mountain man with a black haired mountain woman
Pretty as I like
Pretty as they come
Sweet too like
My feet are hot now
Stuck in these sneakers old
Droopy white socks
You’re walking inside
And I’m supposed to follow you
But I look at the leaves
And I feel like a king
What Did I Do Today
-Recorded Voice Work
-Worked on blog
-Worked on blog
-Went outside to catch the last of the sun
-Took some photos
-Worked on the blog
-Went to bed