Contract With The Real

I wrote this during an English class in eleventh grade. Just going through old CD-Rs tonight and found this and a bunch of old poems, which I’ll post next. The idea with Contract With The Real was that Julian and I were going to perform it. Going through all this old stuff tonight—old writing—I’m seeing from tonight’s chair how early my mind has been active, and how active it has been. And my dreams from then (from high school and my two quarters at OU and the first few years of my working life) are the same as they have been since: writing and programming, and tangentially making movies. Notes from that period have shreds of what has become Camp Lake…that’s a story I’ve been trying to write for a long time.

I guess this is part of growing older: it’s odd…to think of myself, then and now, as in many ways a coherent piece…the feeling that I have about what I want to do…I think some parts of that feeling are consistent between then and now.  Of course my knowledge of the world has changed—increased.  And that colors my dreams, so that my dreams, now, while they’re still the same intention as I could manage earlier in my life…those dreams are more realistic, framed more by the parameters of reality as I have learned them.  I want to maintain touch with my increasing awareness of what the world is…but I want also to maintain touch with the pure feeling of dream…that part of me that I read so much more clearly in my writing from high school, that me who thought that whatever I wanted to do, I could do, that part of me who, when deciding what to create, didn’t temper that to fit the world.

We dream big.  Then we talk to other people.  And their dimness rubs off on us.

I think it’s appropriate for each of us to actively fight against this.

Stay in touch with :: the pure feeling of dream. =)


More old stuff I posted tonight:
Haiku Wars
I have this recurring dream
Soar
the Original
The Myth of Real News
I hate literary critics
There is no God.
Drunk
It’s not that I don’t like thinking,
Liberatum veritae
gallery
I am
Lightness was walking up the street with that look on her face again.
Heavy Sets
summer camp
Wolf
mona lisa
pretend
with you
eyes of April
when i came upon the valley
kate
autumn’s call
Burger
avant blush
Indelible Dick Tracy

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Contract With The Real

Finished a book

Camp Lake, novel about camp counsellors.  Very tired now, every day.  Tried moving to New York a few days ago but it didn’t take.  Came back to the country.  Happy with the book, sending it to agents.  Have strands of ideas here and there, making notes, but probably won’t write anything new for a long time, so…starting to rest, taking a break.  Watching TV.  Letting my mind off the hook for a moment.

Starting to see the world again, as a place that might have something to offer that I might be interested in.

Read books in a bookstore with my sister today, critiqued covers and first sentences.

Feeling peaceful, able to conceptualize someday feeling happiness.  Don’t feel it now.  But have an intellectual model in which I believe it might be able to happen.  Kindof don’t care about whether my books get published.  Feeling, not suicidal but a release, a not-caring, an over-it that isn’t fun but I recognize as a powerful position.  The hanged-man position in the Tarot…last time I was here was a decade ago…and the thing to do from this position is to unhang the man.  I don’t feel angry anymore, I’m not angry at anyone from the past.

I’m seeing several of my other life paradigms as described within a master paradigm of suffering and joy.  Almost a year ago I set out on a journey to not drink alcohol (or do any other drugs, whether they be legal or not).  Since then I have come to see that abstinence as part of a larger paradigm of maintaining a meditative state.  And now I see those both as part of a larger paradigm of not suffering.  I’m not not-drinking not to drink.  I’m not not-drinking to maintain a meditative state.  Both of those are true.  But in a larger sense I am not-drinking because I don’t believe it’s my duty to suffer.  Not-suffering also entails not punishing myself for my past, and not punishing others for their pasts with me.  I don’t want to suffer and I don’t want anyone else to suffer.  So I can’t argue with my dad anymore.  Or tell off my past employer.  What I said to and about both in the past was right for that time.  Now, not because the past has changed, not because of anything except that I don’t want to suffer or cause suffering in someone else, I don’t have any reason to engage in those discussions…because the reason I was engaging in them, ultimately, as big as I can think, is that I felt it was my duty to suffer.  Working a job that doesn’t fit me, that also takes my life away, is something I was willing to do within a framework of believing it was my job to suffer, that it was necessary and good for me to suffer.  Not taking care of my body is something I had been willing to do because I accepted that it was natural for me to torture my body by drinking caffeine and alcohol and doing other traumatic things to myself.  If, and as, I accept and believe that my job is to joy, not to suffer, many things fall away.

I don’t know what I’m doing next.  Probably not much for a while.  I’m focused on things like exercise, meditation, belief (that my dreams are eventual), love (of myself and others), forgiveness (of my past selves and the pasts of others), and the idea that I wasn’t made to suffer, and that it’s okay, and good, for me not to suffer.  I would like to get that from—as the expression goes—my mind to my fingers.

Finished a book