457: Yesterday, I Had a Moment...
Actually, two; the second one first:
So, in the midst of an otherwise so-so party down by the river, I took off, essentially, most of my clothes in the hopes of getting some sun. I don't know if I did, but one good thing is that I guess I'm mostly getting over the body-shame. (Of course, I wouldn't be saying this if I hadn't officially gotten to the point where I've kept off those twenty pounds).
My mother still thinks I'm fat and should lose thirty pounds... but she's just carelessly insensitive like that. While 150 sounds like a lovely weight, anything below that (I know) would be hella skinny. 160 would be a good weight, so I'm halfway to that...*shrug*
I had my other moment (appropriately enough) whilst on the treadmill that morning (yesterday):
So, I was thinking about write_away, and what I'm trying to get out of posting *any* of my work (however sporadically) to a community of, quite literally, strangers. I want to see how people (who don't know me, obviously) respond and criticize to my work, right? And maybe it's just the kinds of comments I get from this specific community... but I could've sworn I was better at taking it than this? I just have such instant knee-jerk reactions, and I would like to think that getting over these and attempting to (however begrudgingly) open my ears to what they're saying would help me get better...
So, that's why I was trying to shorten my sentences. I mean, I can't be attached to a specific style, right? But, then again, what *is* my voice? I know what it is, and I bristle somewhat at a recent comment that "stars, night, cold air... I've heard it all before". Maybe I need to work it better, but that IS my life, right? Well, more "trees, bare feet, cars"... Hm. I think I am still not quite to where I can write what I see, but I can ham it pretty well at this point...*le sigh*
What I really need is Eve, again. Some other people; like, what Erica was saying, we should start a Salon (of writers, not hairstylers.. though they would be welcome too! ^_^). At this point, I think, I can't take this kind of randomized criticism... I need to attach it to someone I can interact better with, otherwise, it just makes me feel like crap about my work...
Which is to say, I'm officially going back to the drawing-board with my work (I don't know yet if most of it was lost in transit... drafts exist from earlier, but we'll see if I can get them off the one floppy I managed to "save' them to...)
Basically, this is a segue to post this experiment (the folks on write_away liked the staccatoness of it, but I'm not entirely sure if that's my style; let me know what y'all think (if anyone comments, that is)):
Streetwalker
Night and no cars coming.
Empty street for my catwalk.
Place one foot exactly before
the other. Perfect symmetry.
Straight down this left-turn lane.
Sway my hips. Don't hurry.
Houses seem empty. Silent.
The perfect audience. Awash
in some buzzing sound. The
highway? The river? Follow
this cement reflection of that
beating heart. Leave granite
and Spanish facades behind.
Towards those blinking lights
ahead. Red and red. No green.
Ignore those white lines. They
only hold me back from the
blackness. Oblivion I desire.
So, in the midst of an otherwise so-so party down by the river, I took off, essentially, most of my clothes in the hopes of getting some sun. I don't know if I did, but one good thing is that I guess I'm mostly getting over the body-shame. (Of course, I wouldn't be saying this if I hadn't officially gotten to the point where I've kept off those twenty pounds).
My mother still thinks I'm fat and should lose thirty pounds... but she's just carelessly insensitive like that. While 150 sounds like a lovely weight, anything below that (I know) would be hella skinny. 160 would be a good weight, so I'm halfway to that...*shrug*
I had my other moment (appropriately enough) whilst on the treadmill that morning (yesterday):
So, I was thinking about write_away, and what I'm trying to get out of posting *any* of my work (however sporadically) to a community of, quite literally, strangers. I want to see how people (who don't know me, obviously) respond and criticize to my work, right? And maybe it's just the kinds of comments I get from this specific community... but I could've sworn I was better at taking it than this? I just have such instant knee-jerk reactions, and I would like to think that getting over these and attempting to (however begrudgingly) open my ears to what they're saying would help me get better...
So, that's why I was trying to shorten my sentences. I mean, I can't be attached to a specific style, right? But, then again, what *is* my voice? I know what it is, and I bristle somewhat at a recent comment that "stars, night, cold air... I've heard it all before". Maybe I need to work it better, but that IS my life, right? Well, more "trees, bare feet, cars"... Hm. I think I am still not quite to where I can write what I see, but I can ham it pretty well at this point...*le sigh*
What I really need is Eve, again. Some other people; like, what Erica was saying, we should start a Salon (of writers, not hairstylers.. though they would be welcome too! ^_^). At this point, I think, I can't take this kind of randomized criticism... I need to attach it to someone I can interact better with, otherwise, it just makes me feel like crap about my work...
Which is to say, I'm officially going back to the drawing-board with my work (I don't know yet if most of it was lost in transit... drafts exist from earlier, but we'll see if I can get them off the one floppy I managed to "save' them to...)
Basically, this is a segue to post this experiment (the folks on write_away liked the staccatoness of it, but I'm not entirely sure if that's my style; let me know what y'all think (if anyone comments, that is)):
Streetwalker
Night and no cars coming.
Empty street for my catwalk.
Place one foot exactly before
the other. Perfect symmetry.
Straight down this left-turn lane.
Sway my hips. Don't hurry.
Houses seem empty. Silent.
The perfect audience. Awash
in some buzzing sound. The
highway? The river? Follow
this cement reflection of that
beating heart. Leave granite
and Spanish facades behind.
Towards those blinking lights
ahead. Red and red. No green.
Ignore those white lines. They
only hold me back from the
blackness. Oblivion I desire.