Sunday, November 14, 2010

Typing While The Sun Shines

Here I sit, the sun bursting through living room windows. XTC's Dear God, blasting out of laptop speakers. What's next? Maybe a pot of coffee, I am not sure I can face the blinking cursor yet. It all seems so daunting. I feel like I am above my head, like I am drowning in a sea of words without structure. Someone please throw me a life preserver. Someone give me a project. I am devoid of inspiration, I am tempted to say, fuck it all, and play video games.

I return for the kitchen, coffee brewing. A big chunk of cheese consumed. I wonder why I put conditioner in my hair, all it does is make it puffy and even more unmanageable. Yes, folks, that's how my brain works. It flits from this to that.

I must avoid Twitter, thankfully the place is as sparse as the audience at a Pauly Shore movie. I swear I hear crickets. Then there is Facebook, the news sites, fantasy sports, You Tube, there is time suckage with every click. I must avoid the Web, lest I get tangled, lest the huge man-eating spider of distraction devours me whole.

 The coffee must be brewed, back to the kitchen I go. Oh and ya, I just checked in on Twitter.  Goddamn it I am weak. The coffee will help, but I wish it was red wine. Bitch, bitch, bitch, why the malaise? Truthfully, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, I am not that down. This is just a way for me to get out of a creative funk. I try and write through it. I describe it, I try and make other folks feel for my situation. Writer's block, of course, is nothing new, nor is it unique to me, all of us that like to think we have a way with words, fall into the abyss, all of us lose our way sometimes.

So yes, the sun still shines, and I have typed a few words. Thistles & Weeds, by Mumford & Sons, will be the song blasted in closing. Once again I avoided the file that contains my novel. I just can't face that beast today. I have also ignored the unfinished post about the failure of American liberalism, does anyone really care about that on a sunny Sunday? And yet, I have written, I have pounded, if only  for a few minutes, like a monkey with keyboard. The result, is nothing but a bitch, a whine, and a lament about writer's block. A subject I have tackled a few times on this blog. A topic, I bet, that I will write about again. A malady to which there is no real cure. One can only get through it using whatever trick they think might work best. Today, I bitched.

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but... I feel that I should be heard
Loud and clear. We all need a big reduction in amount of tears ~
Dear God, XTC 

Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams, 
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams ~ Thistle & Weeds, Mumford & Sons

Monday, November 1, 2010

Dear America,

Hi, Joe here, you know, that Canadian guy, the one with the unhealthy obsession with your wacky political system. Canadian, yes, and I bet that was as far as any teabaggers got into this letter. My bad, I scared them off, what with my unabashed socialism and potential illegal immigrant status. The truth is, and you might want to skip this part righties (if you are still reading) I was a card-carrying Communist in my 20's. It was the 90s, I thought, foolishly, that such an out-there political stance might better endear me to some of the more hip of the lady folk. It, of course, didn't, and now I am at risk of making an appearance on Glenn  Beck's chalk board. Man I miss Joseph McCarthy, he was always my favorite Beatle.

Where was I? Oh right, I was writing a letter to the 310,232,863 or so citizens of the country to the south of me. Or more specifically, the 207,643,594 of those folks that are eligible to vote. Go here, then here, to see where I got those crazy numbers. Why am I writing this letter? Is this not electoral interference from a foreigner...sure, and why not? If I am going to subjected to an unending stream of political madness, whether it be through the mass media (those bastards! Thanks Sarah), or social media (screw you Zuckerberg) then damn it, I am going to have my say. Freedom of expression baby!

The American Midterm Elections are unavoidable. These are ghoulish times; filled with witches, grizzly mamas, and Muslim Presidents. A time where fired former correspondents become high paid pundits, where comedians have become the voice of reason. If you are a politico, like I am, this is like Woodstock, but Woodstock experienced after sipping too much of the wrong sort of Kool-Aide. OH YEAH!

All I ask, dear neighbours, dear cousins, dear friends, is that you vote wisely. Leave your guts (and yes you all are American and your guts are substantial), guns, bibles, and prejudices at home. Vote for the best candidate, not the fringe candidate. I can understand voter apathy, I know things are tough, I get the anger, but voting for a candidate that represents only anger, and only apathy, will get you a lame duck elected member. Vote for the best and the brightest, not the loudest and densest. Here is a simple way to pick a candidate; vote for the one that ran the least amount attack ads. Vote for the candidate that talks to the press, not the one that avoids and ridicules the press. Vote for the candidate that has ideas that are their own, not the one that spouts catch phrases and talking points. If there was political debate, vote for the person that won that debate. Please, just vote smart.

You might be asking; why do I care? You might think I am nothing but an uppity, judgmental Canadian, or as we like to call ourselves, the liberal elite. Well here goes, I care because, much to the sometimes chagrin of the rest of the world, when America farts, everyone else smells it. The world just went through the last time America cowboyed up, went rogue, and overreacted, and quite frankly, those wounds have yet to heal. The rest of us, those of us, that have no right to participate in cause, but every ability to feel the effect, just want America to be reasonable for awhile. Just until the pain subsides, and we stop limping. We just want some normalcy. The circus is great fun from time to time, but cleaning up elephant shit is the worst job ever. We need a break, we're calling time out.

In closing, I love you, I wish you nothing but happiness and prosperity, but please, don't fuck this all up for the rest of us.

Hugs xoxoxo

Watch this, it's important.