Forever Young: 02/15/12

Blog Manifesto

This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

{[ Blank ]}

I lack blank. I love blank. I want blank. I feel blank. I touch blank. I see blank. But I can't really have blank. If only these blanks could be filled..

shooting blanks

blank mind
completely..

does this mean i could actually be content?
or happy.. or unfeeling.. uncaring..
just numb....

or does this mean i am dull?
or bored.. or lackluster..
that i, unfortunately, lack the creativity i so desire to possess..

i conjur up memories and spin them into amusing compassionate little stories
whoop t do
i sing music other people write
no originality
i cant draw anything realistic without an actual picture in hand
now thats just plain sad

blank

i cannot tell a story face to face
or debate a topic
or tell a joke
i go completely blank

someone asked me earlier if i am using protection..
would be funny if i could actually say im shooting blanks..

my brain shoots blanks all the time
why not the rest of me?

Totally Blank

I am without want. I am not horny, I'm not hungry, I'm not bored. I'm not unhappy. I'm not euphoric or even pleasantly delighted.

I'm in the in-between transition stage where things are in balance and moving around for my attention. Nothing matters and nothing misses.

I am blank.

I kinda like it like that for a bit, but it makes me into a terrible companion. I go "huh?" and give peeps a blank stare. I have to retreat within myself to maintain blankness.

Blankness slides into depression, it slides into ennui. It spins around on the floor and dissipates if my mood lifts. It pops like a bubble with a chance odor or a distraction.

In the past 24 hours I've know great joy and euphoria. I've been kissed and cuddled and been blissed out. I've eaten amazing food. I've also cried terrible tears and endured imaginary sorrows of my own making.

Blank is a blessing. It is to be embraced. It is fleeting enough.