Holy Wood  

upsidedownsky 41M
186 posts
3/23/2021 12:15 am
Holy Wood


So I have tentatively taken to calling this space. Are you ready for it? Bloggywood. I have this thing for originality and Margaritaville was taken. No more jokes from me. My jokes are worse than the Joker's. The joker as played by Joaquin Phoenix. (The first movie I saw out of the monastery and I empathize). But it is not really a joke. Bloggywood, in a pristine sense, seems appropriate to me. There are<b> writers </font></b>around here who are upper echelon. Very wise, adept souls, with a flair for the turn of phrase. The beautiful ones. The shining ones.

I haven't really written much in the last year or so. I remember wondering what it would be like to be back at the key board. (Closes eyes and breathes deeply as though savoring a piece of classical music).

Thinking of things is helpful to me. Articulating things.

I had an idea for this book. It would be about the transcendental object at the end of time. And-like-how we are constantly moving towards this thing, both collectively and as individuals. And we do not exactly know what it is, or where it is. Like something that we have never seen or measured but we have proved the existence of, mathematically.

Symbolically, this thing may be represented as a monolith.

Well, my idea for the book, on the individual level, was to be comprised by this poetry reading, as an anchor.

I remember watching the Def Poetry Jam on HBO. Totally amazed. How did they do that? My amazement became greater after engaging in public speaking. They say public speaking is statistically our deepest fear. The Fear. I found that in itself to be amazing.

So, at the monastery, these extraoridinary individuals conducted a creative writing course, which I joined, in a way that was... Synchronicity.

At the end there would be a Bloggywood level show, full of glitz and glamour. A gymnasium full of... Students and... Students?

Everyone would compose poetry to read aloud at a microphone.

I decided now is as good a time as any to make my Def Poetry debut.

So I wrote a piece. 10 four line stanzas with a concluding 11 line stanza. 1111.

And I committed to commit them to memory. Similar to public speaking but different. (Remember the thing. Things I just must do). So I set about doing the thing.

I thought about how the druids were said to be required to memorize a thousand poems before they could be initiated. Or how Socrates would stare at a candle, entering a trance like state, holding on to a singularity of thought. Or how Tesla could trouble shoot a motor in his mind.

I laid down and closed my eyes. One line. Repeat. Two lines. Repeat. To eleven. 1111. And it worked.

I thought about the Aztec education system. And how they would make their youths (who they adored) run for miles with a mouth full of water, without being allowed to spill a drop. And I recited the poem while I ran eleven miles.

The closer the event. The fear.

The event. THE FEAR.

I went last, as determined earlier.

It was later said that I approached the microphone like a gladiator. To the approval of the audience.

I don't know. But as I did the thing. I saw this bright, beaming light in the eyes and faces of the audience. I will never forget that.

It was fucking awesome. Real horrorshow.

*. *. *

Become a member to create a blog