Archive for category Writing

Mental

My mind gets on me nerves.  Bits of poems and ideas pop into my head.  I rearrange them into at least one stanza, but by the time I’m able to write them down, they go poof.  Sometimes I wish that I could miniaturise myself and hop into that massive cosmos that is my ego brain.  I’d rearrange the Axon’s so they’d sparked to the proper Dendrites.   I’d beat the Hypothalamus into submission.  It doesn’t work anyhow, so it’d be a win win situation.  If my brain was a hard drive, I’d kick it until it rebooted. 

I just realised what my main problem is.  I’ve received four IT support calls while trying to write this post.  How can anyone concentrate on anything with people calling and asking questions which divert one’s attention from what he or she was trying to accomplish.   Aaarrrgghhhh…

Dewy Berries (by JeffersonDavis)

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Who is this bloke, Jefferson Davis anyway?

I talk about me self way too much.  I don’t post enough.  All of this is true.  Yep!  Welcome to my world.  So, who the heck is this Jefferson Davis chap?

Welp, he is a very complicated dude with a simple core.  He has more persona’s than he can name.  Some of which are more active than others.  Sometimes they drive him mad with all the chatter about what to do or what to say.  You’ll find some of them listed below.

Jefferson: This character takes nothing from no one.  He awaits a fight and sometimes initiates them just for the thrill.  He is a born rebel and rails against any sort of rule that he doesn’t agree with.  He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it.  He lets anger rule his world.

Shane: He is just a poor ol’ sod.  He lacks confidence and lets people run all over him.  He’s very charitable and will do anything for anyone.  He’s honest and kind.  He couldn’t lie, if he tried with all of his might.  He’s just trying to find his place in the world.  He’s got two left feet and stumbles a lot.  A quiet and cordial lad if there ever was one.  Shane also likes to poke fun at himself before anyone else has the opportunity to do so.

Sean: This fella is fascinated by the world.  He is extremely artistic.  He doesn’t see people, he envisions an amalgamation of abstract forms and colours.  He doesn’t hear music, he sees swirling notes of every pigment in the rainbow flutter out of wind instruments, twist off of strings, and bounce off of percussion instruments.  He turns picturesque scenes into words and amorous memories into drawings.  Most of his idols were from the Romanticist era.  He is a dreamer.

Sam: Well, this bloke can not be trusted.  He is sneaky.  This is the one you have to watch out for.  He is sly and cunning.  He is a thrill seeker that loves a challenge.  He seems like a simpleton, but that is just what he wants you to think.  Sam is quite nefarious!

Davis: He follows in his fathers foot steps.  He chases after women in the day, night, and everywhere in between.  He’s worse than a rabbit!

In the end, what does Jefferson Davis want in life?  Ah, he wants what ever other decent man wants.  A graceful (insert laughter here) woman that’ll put up with his antics, a good job, a few wee brats, and a chance to grow old gracefully.

So, I’ve made a buffoon of myself.  Now it’s your turn.  That’s right!  It’s meme time, baby!

Take a minute or two and come up with four or five personas within yourself.  We all have a good side, a bad side, a happy side, and a weird side.  Name your characters and tell the world a bit about each of them.  It is good to laugh at yourself from time to time.

This is open to anyone who would like to do it.  Do it when you can and let me know.  Once you’ve done it, I’ll add a link to the bottom of the post.

If you need any inspiration, just watch the video below.  That Lily Allen has a few million characters rolling around in her head.  I’ve been following her for a long time.  I like her because she’s got spunk.  She’s supposed to come out with a new album soon.

au revoir

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Riddled countenance

Over the past few weeks I’ve been of an ill humour.  My countenance has been riddled with an atrocious scowl.  After much reflection and a bit of intuition, I finally figured out what was wrong.  Like so many of my fellow bloggers, I’m a very creative person.  I have to put my artistic talents to use or pay the consequences.  In the last few weeks, I”ve worked so much that I’ve not had time to write poetry or short stories, take or edit magnificent photos that boggle the senses, or draw the things I love.  It is imperative that I do these things no matter how trivial they seem to others.  I’d lose my sanity without my crative outlets.  My prose would drive me mad!

I’m a dreamer, a fantacist of sorts.  I dream of a better world in which people actually get that which they deserve.  Good or bad.  About halfway through an incredibly boring workday, I caught myself doodling characters from a short story I started writing but never finished.  I had everyone at work laughing at the drawing of the auld witch and the squirrel innocently encamping in the eve of her house.

So, to keep from going mad for the twenty-three days I have left at my job, I’m setting aside time to do what I do best.

Speaking of work, I’ve got to be there in twenty minutes.  Have a grand week all…

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Lost Puppy has finally found his home..

As I sit here in me room waiting for me water to boil, I conjure up the best moments of the day.  It has been a magnificent day here in Dublin.  I walked about 25km today.  My feet are sore but it was worth it. 

The past two days were a bit rough due to jet lag and too much alcohol.  It generally takes me two or three days to get used to a new place. I met the loveliest people today.  Never say that the Irish are not friendly, because that is simply not the case.  Sure, I’ve ran into my share off arses here, but most of them were Poles.  If you don’t mind me enquiring, what’s up with the Poles?  250,000 of them I’m told!  My stepdad is a pole!  :)  

After a glorious Irish Breakfast, I set out on the town.  I went and had a lovely chat with James Joyce and Oscar Wilde.  Whilst walking through council park, where Oscar Wilde’s monument is, I discovered an elderly lady with ashen grey hair.  She asked me if I was okay.  I said yes and thanked her.  She proceed to say that I looked like a lost puppy that had finally found its home whilst smiling.  She then asked where I was from, and I told her.  She didn’t believe me!  She said she’d never met a Yank like me before.  I told her that "The Picture of Dorian Grey", by Mr. Wilde was the starting point for me, and that everything I am today and my love for the arts and for writing started with that book.  We had a lovely chat and I went on about my business. 

After a touching stroll through Phoenix Park, I went to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.  You cannot help but get in touch with your spiritual side, when you walk through those magnificent doors.  I am a very respectful mate.  I’d never do anything to offend anyone, if I could help it.   I remained silent, as I walked down corridors snapping over fifty shots inside the Cathedral alone.  And, I took some really cool RAW shots that’ll take me a while to compile. 

About an hour after I arrived, they closed so I went on yet another walkabout thinking that I could find my way back to the Temple Bar district.  I was way off base!  :)   I was getting a bit worried whilst moseying down some shady streets, when a lovely chap dressed in yellow stripes and a smile passed me pushing a buggy full of garbage.  So, I said, "Pardon me, sir…Might I ask if you can direct me to the Temple Bar area?". 

He moved his arm around like an old beeping radar machine, and muttered, "Ah, gash, you’re a bit away from temple bar".

"I don’t mind the walk."

"Ah, well then, go down here…about 400 metres and turn right at the light…That should get you there in a brisk ten minutes", he said whilst pointing in the general direction.

"Much obliged, sir..Thank you for the help, I said, as I shook his hand in gratitude.

"Where you from, mate?"

"The states."

"No way, I’ve never met a Yank that sounds like you", he muttered, as he was taken aback a bit.

"Ah, yeah, I’m from the states, all right…Can’t deny that."

"What part?"

"Southern…South Carolina to be exact."

"Carolina, aye…Brilliant….Now you have yourself a lovely time", he said whilst going back to work.

I finally made it to Temple Bar and had a pint of Bulmer’s.  A lovely cider/beer stuff that is excellent!  And then, as I was walking down the cobbled stone streets of the Temple Bar district, my eyes fel upon a gorgeous redhead playing the guitar for a few Euros.  She was playing some American song.  I don’t know which one.  I had other things on my mind.  :)   I asked if I could take a wee picture and she laughed.  She asked if I was a photographer and I said yes.  She playfully still didn’t believe a word I said!  She said I was a typical ‘Merkan and full of it.  I love this woman!  :)   I like a woman with spunk and by god, these women have it!  :)   None of these women believe any of the hyperbole coming out of my mouth, and I really love that. 

I’m going to the Cliffs of Moher on the morrow.   I booked the tour with Paddy Wagon tours.  I’ve heard good things about them from a brilliant blogmatey-ess.  Speaking of blog matey’s, I ran into an Irish blogger on O’Connell Street today.  It was the oddest thing.  There I was passing Eason’s, and I saw this lad taking pictures.  I will not say who he is unless I am given permission to do so, but I walked with him to the bus stop and we talked about cameras, of course.  :)

Anyway, I’m off to have a pint before or with supper.  :)

saint_patricks_falcon saint_patricks_arches james_joyce oscar_wilde

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High Museum: Part One

Yesterday, I went with the Art Club down to the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia. On the way down, I sat in the window seat on the bus and a pretentious – egotist bloke sat beside me. He blabbered on about different pieces we were going to be observing and buttered up one of the instructors in the seat directly in front of us, while I mutely sat and read the New Yorker. It was a pleasant trip filled with laughter.

After we arrived, all of us entered the Louvre section of the museum. We were all captivated and awe struck by “The Tiber” and other gorgeous sculptures and pieces from France, Roma, Greece, Egypt, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Babylon. Chills rained down my back, while gazing at clay tablets over four thousand years old. I pondered about the people that crafted the pieces and the lives they lived.

The “Winged Victory of Samothrace” bewitched my spirit. The implied motion – how the fabric of the garment flows over the body of Nike, the goddess of Victory. And, most importantly, the story behind the sculpture. Most of the students put on headphones, which told them about each sculpture, piece, or painting, but I chose to read the plaques and interpret everything in my own way. That is what I love the most about art and literary works. We can each interpret a novel or a painting differently.

Another sculpture that called to me was “Crouching Aphrodite”, from the Roman Imperial period. I kneeled down beside it and glared into her face – a countenance weighed with thought. Sculptures from the Hellenistic period have always captured my imagination, while paintings from the Romanesque era enchant my intellect. Of course, I love all art, regardless of when it was created. However, pop art unnerves me a bit. :)

Go boil some water for a cuppa because this is long, or you can enjoy the pictures below. :) I have to write a paper about my visit, so this is good practice…

After exiting the Louvre hall, we entered the contemporary hall. Hanging on the first wall, adjacent to the entrance, were a few silhouette images – black cutouts against a white background – in a row, by Kara Walker. Some of her drawings are quite compelling, but her cutouts are an atrocity. She depicts scenes of slaves in the pre civil war south, being brutalised by their respective owners. She shows white men raping slaves (young men and women) and white women pillaging the wombs of female slaves. She does this to push society’s buttons. That is how she has made a name for herself! It’s not by the quality or composition of the artwork, but the horror it projects. Look, every society at one point, has been enslaved by a more powerful civilisation, so I say, get over it! Did I say I didn’t like her? :)

Anyway, back to the artsy Californian that I sat beside on the bus. Whilst standing in front of Kara Walker’s pieces, he said, “Isn’t she fantastic”, with hyper glee.

“Yes, she is”, I replied, as glared at the horrific scenes.

“I love how she uses these slavery images”, he uttered, while making hand gestures at the particular way she depicted blood gushing.

I don’t like her, but I was trying to hold back my judgements and be nice to the guy. Heck, I might have learned something from him.

“Yeah, there was about an eight page write up about her in the New Yorker two months ago.

He stopped dead in his tracks, dropped his jaw, and enquired, “You…read the New Yorker?”

“Indeed”, I answered, with a laughing smirk.

He stepped back, put his arms to the side, and muttered, “You must have borrowed it from someone, right?”

“I have a subscription to that along with New York Times, New York Review of Books, and Contemporary Poetry Review”, I muttered, as I tried not to laugh.

“You?”

“Tis true”

“….I never would have thought it, just being honest and all”, he mumbled, as he crossed his arms.

“Ehhmm…Yeah, I’m a photographer, aspiring poet, amateur author (I have much to learn), professional skirt chaser, and I dab in watercolours and pastels from time to time”, while glinting at the young female art student beside me.

He fell back on his heels, and cried, “Wow, that is totally cool…I never would have thunk it…Dude, I’m like…totally blown away. Do you have any of your poetry with you or some photographs?”

There’s no need to go any further into the discussion. He asked if I did architecture, nature, surreal, abstract, impressionistic, or portraits. I gave him my flickr address and the blog address. So, if you are reading this, sir, I’m not trying to imply that you are an idiot or a jerk, just a Californian. :) Nah, most Californians are cool. Dude is smart. He went to the Art Institute of Chicago. We are all taught at an early age how to view the world, but it is up to us as adults to be open minded and nonjudgmental.

I’ll pick up with part two of The High Museum in a day or two. I have a lot of reading to do. :)

Kewl…862 words in thirty minutes of casual maundering. :)

P.S.: The last image is a one of my abstract paintings contorted in photoshop.

Nooks
Laid Path
Railings
Wire Sculpture
Jeweled Roof
Angled Steps
Art Deco Stairwell
Reflected Observance
Abstracted Colours

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