Dry

I write songs and stories. I’ve written a lot of them over the years. But, occasionally, I get what is commonly called “writer’s block.” The ideas just don’t materialize, and it can be a long time between. If I wrote these things for a living this could be unnerving. But I don’t really let it bother me too much.

But I still wonder why it happens. What causes the creative juices to dry up? What causes them to flow? You think you know sometimes, but it’s really hard to say.

I recently had a long stretch of no songs. Six or seven months. Don’t know why. Wasn’t sure what to do about it. Would I ever write another one? But there were no ideas, no sounds ringing in my head, no nothing. Then, last week, I had a vague idea. I could hear something going on. Think of it like this: you hear a song off in the distance, not clearly, but you think you might recognize it, so you try to move closer to it to figure out what it is. That’s what it’s like, except it’s in your head. And this is where learning the craft of song writing helps. If you have some tools, some skill with chord progressions and melodic structure, you can use those things to trace a path and get where you need to go.

I put a few things down on the recorder. They were very clunky and forced. Horrible really. And then I gave up because it just wasn’t working. I went to work on some other things. Checking emails. Making some calls. Reading the Bible and another book I’ve been reading about leadership. Working on some ideas for teaching. And then, boom, I had a song, almost complete, words and music. I had to trim it a bit and hammer it out a bit, but it came together really fast and seems to work. We played it last Sunday and it clicked pretty well.

Now, I know I must have set my brain in the right direction by hammering on some things ahead of time. But this shift from no ideas at all, to writing things that aren’t working, and then having something that does seem to work just rising up like a bubble out of the water: it’s something I can’t explain. It’s like gears falling into place. It makes me think of one of those games where you set it up and the marble rolls through the thing, around the curves and such, and how you have to set it up right or the marble doesn’t make it all the way to the end. So you keep at it until you finally have a flow that works.

It’s kind of weird and inscrutable, but wonderful. It happens to me, I experience it, but I find it really hard to articulate. As you have just seen.

Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Nothing To Say

I have nothing to say today, but don’t think for a moment that will stop me from saying it. I mean, people with nothing to say say things all the time. In fact, you can’t seem to shut them up. The harder you try, the more they apparently have to say. They keep saying nothing, over and over again, sometimes for weeks, months, even years. It’s amazing how much people can say without really saying much of anything. And how much listening can happen as a result. Listening that seems like it’s important, which falsely, and even destructively, affirms the one saying nothing, but in the end it doesn’t take anyone anywhere. Why? Because listening to nothing is just that. But I do admire the effort, and the confidence, and the passion, in a strange way, of those who can say so little with so much.

But I will say this:

Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

Fringe Benefits

I was watching an episode of Fringe. During this episode (from the second season) there was a piece of dialogue that clarified for me why I like the show so much, and how absolutely, astonishingly brave the people who do this show are.

One character says:

“Why are shape shifting soldiers from another universe stealing frozen heads?”

To which the other character responded:

“The most likely explanation we can think of is that they’re looking for a specific head.”

Um. Wow.

And what’s sooooo nutty about this is how perfectly these bizarre lines are delivered and crafted into one of the weirdest (and best) shows in TV history.

How did the actor even get through these lines without laughing at the audacity of it? How do you even say “...shape shifting soldiers” without flubbing the line 20 times? Go ahead, try to say it five times fast. It’s a serious tongue twister. It’s funny. It’s sci fi. It’s nutty. And yet it completely works in the context of the show. The actors pull it off.

Stunning. Simply stunning.



Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

It Drive Me Crazy

I’ve been watching Jack Bauer, on the TV show “24." He keeps saying, “Nukuler materials.” It’s almost ruined the show for me, but I’m trying to let it go because it’s so completely great otherwise. I have to wonder: Is he mispronouncing it on purpose? Is it an oversight? (And how exactly does that well worn word even make sense? “Oversight?” Isn’t it a lack of oversight that’s the problem? How many people over sighted it?) Presidents Carter, Clinton and George W. Bush all commonly made the same mistake. The presidents of the United States of America. If this keeps up, the dictionaries will give up and say it’s okay.

It drive me crazy.

And I’m really starting to wonder what it would be like to get a shopping cart at the grocery store that isn’t broken and deformed in some way. What do I get? Broken squeaky wheels. Carts that pull to one side or the other, causing me to keep almost running into people and shelves. Handles that are broken and disfigured and bite into your hand as you push the cart. I went grocery shopping this week, and the wheel on my cart made so much noise, AFTER it was half full, too late to change it without a big hassle. So everyone, and I mean everyone in the store, stared at me while I did my shopping. Kind of like a one man parade.

It drive me crazy.

And what is it with girls and what they tell me are called “bobby pins” all over the house? They look like this:

Let me tell you, they are everywhere. Every where this is a there, there seems to be one of these things taking up space. It’s like a plague. I can’t vacuum the floor without them getting into the brush, making loud clacking noises, tearing up the vacuum. I can’t walk through the house barefoot without them digging into my feet. They appear in the washer and the dryer. Click click click. Caught up in rugs. Hugging the edges of the wall on the floor. Evvvv-ry-where.

It drive me crazy.

It just do.


© LW Publishing 2011

Unfinished

Okay. I’m a little ashamed to admit it. But there are some books I haven’t finished. Books that are supposed to be “classics,” part of the pantheon of supposed greats. And yet, I’ve found them very hard to finish. I keep trying. I hit a page or two every few months or years. I don’t get rid of them. In fact, they sit on the shelf, mocking me with their density and agonizingly slow prose. They baffle me with the fact that there are people out there who believe these are great books. I agree that they are incredibly complex, and they work to tackle questions about identity, faith, free will (or the lack there of), and the nature of good and evil, and so on. I get it. I can see that much in short order as I’m slugging my way through them. But I just haven’t been able to appreciate these books. Or finish them. Or, sadly, even really want to finish them. For instance:

Moby Dick.

If you haven’t read it, then you don’t know that there are large sections of this book that completely abandon the narrative and focus on details of whales and the whaling trade that are more appropriate for an entry in an encyclopedia than a “novel.” At least in my opinion. If it were done as a movie, then the screen would go black for long periods of time while a voice read information to you about whales from an encyclopedia. Yep. Time to go get some popcorn.

To be honest, as I read Moby Dick, I feel like I’m simply being toyed with by an intellectual who likes to make other people feel stupid. The imagery and symbolism are everywhere, with no real clues or keys as to what any of it is supposed to mean. And, in fact, it’s hard to care anyway. At least that's how it reads for me. So I haven’t finished it, and I’m not sure I ever will. But I will try. And hopefully I’ll eventually get what all the hub bub is about.

And then there is Ulysses, by James Joyce.

Ah yes. I have my obligatory English major copy of Ulysses. I found it for a quarter in hard back years ago and began working my way through it. And almost from the very beginning I was asking myself, “Why?” Why are you reading this? It is purposely obtuse and distant. It is more like an experiment of a novel than a genuine attempt at trying to write something anyone would actually want to read.” Sort of like Shyamalan’s “Lady in the Water” was an experimental film, about film and story telling, that is interesting and even entertaining for people who are into the craft side of those things, but it fails miserably to actually be a meaningful film in it’s own right. It’s too clever for it’s own good, so it ends up being kind of stupid, if that makes any sense. And it’s all in spite of Paul Giamatti, who is always great.

I have never met anyone who finished Ulysses. And it's telling that there are lots of "guides" available for a tidy sum to help you make any sense of the book as you read it. Please. I know some people have finished it, and they are the ones writing the books, trying to explain to the rest of us why it’s a good book. But it’s frankly just too much work.

And there are others as well. I’m still picking my way, page at a time, through a history of the Civil War. It’s good. But too much detail. It’s like reading an encyclopedia. Melville would have loved it, I’m sure.

Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2011

By the Numbers

 If you point at something, a dog will have a hard time realizing you are pointing to something. Have you ever noticed that? The dog keeps looking at your hand. They have a hard time making the connection between your pointing hand and the thing you are pointing at. The thing you really want them to see. They have a hard time making the mental jump.

So, math, science, and even religion. Sometimes it makes me feel like a dog.

We have to remember that numbers are a  language, not a reality. And so is language.

Sometimes I think people forget this. As if numbers and words are the things they describe. It’s like saying the word “elephant” is an elephant.

But behind those equations and syllables are a reality that the equations and phrases can only point to. A reality that exists. And who really knows how much of the reality is not adequately described by the expressions? Just consider the weakness of the word “love.” Does it even come close?

Of course not.

Language, whether letters or numbers, is only a pointing hand. And we need to keep that in mind when it comes to math and science and faith. They are pointing to things. If you forget that you are only looking at the hand, if you start thinking that the hand is the thing, then you miss the point.


Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Busy?

Wow. Almost forgot about the blog thing.

I’ve been so active.

Does that word work? “Active?” It doesn’t really work, but I’m a little tired of the word “busy.” Everyone says they are “busy.” It can mean anything. Watching TV. Playing video games for hours on end. Whatever leaves us out of time is what makes us busy. “I’ve been so busy.”

Doing what?

I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been playing video games or goofing around. I’ve been active. Which, it dawns on me, is a word often used for old people who aren’t bed ridden.

Hmmm.

I’ve been doing stuff on the house, accomplishing the holiday festivities, gearing things up for the coming year by getting new calenders going and plans in place. I have seen a few movies to try to relax.

Drinking coffee.

There’s just so much to do these days.

And I don’t think it’s going to let up for quite a while. But I’m okay with that. I like being...

Non sedentary?




Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011