Thursday, June 16, 2011

written through the lens of another

Last night, I was chattin' with babes on the Internet (Dom) and working on two pieces. One, I'd just started. It was a "real" piece, one that would "matter."

The other I found accidentally. I'd started it in January. Upon rereading, I had that moment of, "Hey, this is decent and I wish I had kept going with it." Momentum rested with the latter.

Both are nonfiction and circle similar circumstances. I'm in both of them. But it became clear very quickly why the second was (and is) more interesting: it's not about me.

I suppose it is, at the end of the day. But it's more oblique. There is less "follow me around as I meditate upon things" and more "action happening now and I'm there!" More movement. I get out of myself to follow myself.

With the second piece rolling, I see opportunities now to bring in the "real stuff" of the first. Slip it in so that it's there, so that it still holds weight, but it doesn't bring down the other pages. They wish to fly.


#167: My Morning Jacket, "Holdin' On to Black Metal" (I knew this sounded familiar!)
#168: Pone Tala Pone, with YouTube saying that the rest is "PM 7 - 60S Psych, Freakbeat from Thailand." How can you turn away? (Just don't stare at the screen for long.)

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