Day 29. The prompt, not the day. There’s something soothing about keeping things in perfect order. The French has a phrase for it, “mise en scene”, which means roughly the setting or surroundings of an event. It makes living so much more pleasant to have everything in its place. Just like in a novel, setting reflects a character, so in a psychologically real way, how a person’s house is arranged matters as an externalisation of the inner person. But I’m just wondering when things aren’t perfect, does it mean on some real, psychological level you’re in a bit of a mess? I’m only following this train of thought because Robert Brewer wanted a a metrics poem, either a poem written in meter, or referencing some measurement in metric. I’m sure you’d find some genius way to write to the prompt. I hope the poem measures up. Heh.
This is the one I’d missed yesterday. It’s a word list: pest, crack, ramble, hiccup, wince, festoon. Use them in a poem–what Robert Brewer wants us to do. Truth be told we’re nearing the end of this delectable month, said with a bit of irony only. Stranger things have happened. Why do I say that? I thought about it and this isn’t the most natural thing to do, to write a poem a day. It isn’t. It’s even unnatural to a lot of people. And even pointless I suppose. Anyway I’ve better things to worry about than to think about what other people think. So this is just me trying to be in their shoes. Those shoes don’t fit obviously. I’m taking them off and putting on my own festooned sandals.
Day 28. Where did yesterday go? Well, it went for a walk in the forest and I lost its trail. So you’d have to wait till I find him. Or is it an ‘it’? I checked out Robert Brewer’s smell prompt and decided to jump right to it. One has to follow gut instinct right? Right. So technically there’re two more days to go. Let’s go. Wait. What’s the scent?
Day 26. But really it’s Day 27. I’m kinda late. I’m kind of resisting. But resistance is futile. Why? Because the words are still flowing. So I’m as doomed as Sisyphus. The weather’s real stormy these days. It’s extreme heat alternating with extreme storm. Of course ‘extreme’ could be an exaggeration. But how I wish for mild weather. Like the Mediterranean winter. Rainy but no storm. In a thunderstorm, I think of the people living in floating houses. Or fishermen. They’re exposed to the elements much more. I pray to God for mild weather please. With no fatalities or regrets. Of course I have to link it to Robert’s Brewer’s prompt to write about regret.
Hey guys I need to run off shortly. So five minutes. What I’d like to say is that I’m here in this community to write. It’s somewhat of a ghostly community now, because there’s no bouncing off of one another. Just a few, so thank you. To me it’s a sign that perhaps I ought to take a leave of absence. When things have run their course, let them lay still. It’s like, you know, the lines went dead or something. Maybe people decided to hit the beach. Or something. Is there love? That’s the question and there’s no answer really. You might like to answer Robert Brewer though.
Hey guys, would it be ok if I go dark on you? As if I no longer existed kind of thing. I do feel like it, this kind of retreat, which is really a retreat from humanity. Why? Because why impose one’s self on another person right? Why say or do anything that will say, look at me. I’d rather no one’s looking. I don’t mind if strangers are looking. After all I’m just a pixel, another stranger. I’d just as well be an anonymous person. And after all, I’m not really seeking your attention. I’m really seeking…for God. And I want to know, for myself, that I really do exist. That’s who I am in conversation with, alright. What? Faith, that’s the thing I’m looking for. And Robert Brewer too.
Day 23. How’s your mood? Up or down? I guess half of you would be up and half of you would be down. That’s how the world works. Half the earth in daylight and the other half in darkness. I’m in the part that’s in darkness. Then there would be the ones who would be both up and down. Maybe they’re bipolar or something. I think in a way we’re all bipolar. We harbor the extreme moods as well as the mild, pleasant ones, and depending on the trigger we let the one out. That’s why we need spiritual practice. A center of gravity that is all calm. So when was the last time you were real moody? Because, you guessed it, Robert wants us to write a poem that uses the phrase “Last Blank-Insert Anything Here”. If you have forgotten what happened the last time, tell me your current mood please.