Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Better Late Than Never

Hello, Friends. Sorry, it's been so long since my last post. Since the year has begun, things have been a little crazy, to say the least: appointments, legal matters, doctors, lawyers, and many other household extravagances to make you realize life is here to stay, whether you want it to or not. That can be good or bad, I guess, depending on your frame of mind. Me, being the splendidly morbid character I am, find myself saying, "Hmmmm."

No biggy, really. I've jumped through most of the hoops, and thinks are back on track. I feel like one of those injured players on the bench, watching life go by, or the team playing without you.

I hope everyone is well, and I want to take the time to thank everybody who has posted, commented, and read my blog with the nice things you've said. It warms the heart, my friends, and I thank you.

I've recently found myself on Netflix. Long time coming, maybe, but what a discovery! Does anybody remember the movie Alice, Sweet Alice? What a creep fest! Get it, turn out all the lights, and watch it. I saw this movie at the drive-in when it came out. I was five years old, and all I remember is everybody in the car being "creeped out," as well. (Yes, growing up, the parents loved horror, so I was exposed to some very creepy movies at a very young age. It explains a lot.) It still gave me a good chill just the other night. I've been into the Omen Trilogy, too. I can't believe how good this stuff is and how long it's been since I've seen it. My new addiction is trying to build the ultimate "Horror Movie Collection," and I'm proud of the titles I've accrued along the way.

I'm happy to be back in "Horror Mode," as well. That old familiar love. Darkness and madness with a little dab of blood really makes me happy. Ahhh. I took time reading the classics for quite a few months and not writing a word. I think I needed the break, and I was glad I took the hiatus. The words that come now feel crisp and brand new. Suddenly, it just hit me: "I need darkness and madness. I need...creepy." I think creepy is among the better categories. If anything, I look for creepy wherever I go. Plus, it helps with my funky frame of mind lately, which has been tried.

Things have been weighing heavily on me. Is it okay to get that personal? Years ago, I might have lost myself in booze to forget it. These days, I pop of bowl of popcorn, put in a good scary movie, then make a milkshake. I might have an apple or orange afterwards, just to balance out all the salt and butter. Still, I must be the moodiest sonofabitch in the world, the reason I see the doctor and live as quietly and uncomplicated as necessary. Sometimes, I think I want to be this eccentric hermit who buries himself in the dark and words, writing about loneliness, isolation, about the sadness of broken dreams, the paradise we all want for ourselves, and how it often comes back to haunt us whether we obtain it or not. Writing and art, like in its mirrored reflection called, Life. It takes a long time to see through the years, to come out of the broken paradise, and accept the fact you're no more special than any one else. We only deserve what we create for ourselves. Sometimes, some of us have a little more luck than others, if you believe in that sort of thing.

I've enjoyed writing about the seedier side of life lately as well, the repellent, the horrible, the destitute, the soulless, and the lifeless. I like the realness. Broken, lost, and disheartened love. I've been working on a story I really enjoy, which is about that very thing. (115 pages. I'm doing a lot of novellas lately.) The dementia that lives in obsessive love, the distortion many of us have on how we perceive life, the world, and ourselves.

Lately, too, I've been thinking a lot about commercial fiction. Some of it just doesn't do it for me these days. Maybe I'm just being an ass. So much of it seems one-dimensional, that is a lack of character and substance, fiction for entertainment's sake, instead of emotional satisfaction. Though, I understand this is where the money lies, I can't bring myself to conform, not that I'd find a big fat contract even if I did. I guess it depends on what kind of reader you are. I know what kind of reader I am, and I know I'm not the only one. Tradition with language and the people who built that for us. Some of today's fiction seems like a cardboard cutout. Whatever happened to that blocky, beautiful prose of years gone by: Nabokov, Hawthorne, James, Hemingway? Feeling, emotion, description? Not all of today's fiction is that way, of course. I don't mean to sound like a literary pundit, let alone an asshole. The History of Love was a best seller, and that was nothing but layered emotion upon emotion, and beautifully written description. I work at Barnes and Noble, and have it on my staff recs. I hope Nicole Krauss appreciates how many copies I've sold for her, at least two a week. I'm not looking for anything in return, you understand. I just like sharing a beautiful story. And that was one among the many. Thank you, Nicole, for that. If you have some suggestions for me, I'd love to know. Make a list of some of your favorite literary works.

How this all relates to anything I've been talking about? Who the hell knows? I guess this is kind of erratic post. I'll clean it up later, maybe. I guess it goes back to the same thing:

I find life most enjoyable through art and experience, which are a perfect fit, like what many of my posts are about. Experience through shame and turmoil; through darkness, comes beauty. Through experience, comes knowledge. I know enough to know what makes me happy. Reading beautiful stories, no matter how dark or light, and writing from the raw core of my being. If I don't feel it, why create at all? Writing, what I hope, are beautiful stories, filled with language and heart. I've noticed lately that when I write, I don't feel so much like a writer as an artist. This is one the most beautiful feelings I've discovered lately.

And, of course, hearing the responses, and thanking you, in return. So, what if it took me thirty-odd years to understand it. Better late than never, right?

And a great hockey game, but that's no surprise...Maybe it's time to go skating...

See you soon, light and dark dwellers.
Brandon