Right Here In My Arms

Posted by Robert on the 10th of July, 2005 at 1:29 AM GMT0. Permalink.
Tags: Cars, Drinking, Personal

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When I posted this, I was listening to: H.I.M. - Right Here In My Arms

I try to check my account balance even though I know the site is down for weekly maintenance. Why don't they tell more than just half-truths. I want to know what they are really doing. The screen is weird and it makes me feel sick. I close it.

Yesterday (or the day before, depending on what time it is at my server), I tore part of my car apart. What little I care to say about the specific project can be found on the updates of my carputer project. I think the hardware part of the project will begin around the 15th of July. I'll buy the mainboard, RAM, and find a temporary power supply then. Should be fun.

When I was writing poetry daily, it was much the way Stephen King said his novels form. That is, it just comes. It's not contrived. This is largely why I haven't written anything in ages... because nothing is coming to me. The last thing I had was after leaving Erin's the day after I got back to Birmingham. It was only one line: If this life is not my own, to whom does it belong? I was expecting more of an answer. According to Larry Wharton (even if I think he is set in his ways about literature) says you shouldn't ask questions in poetry; offer answers, instead. Of everything he said while I was in his creative writing class, I think this is the only thing that rung true. Of course, there are always exceptions. Those are questions that are already answered.

My problem with Dr. Wharton's thoughts on poetry (in general) is that he wants to remove anything poetic and replace it with prose. He can't handle hearing abstract thoughts. To me, poetry is about abstract thoughts and play-on-words. Otherwise I would write prose, and explain everything perfectly.

So, back to the question, If this life is not my own, to whom does it belong? This is something that, at the time, had a different meaning than it does now. And I can answer that now: I don't think it is mine. This is cryptic, and not for you to understand, even if I wrote it for you to read. Maybe one day, there will be a poem about it. But it all depends on whether or not the lines come to me. They haven't been for so long.

I try to watch TV, but the motion makes my head spin. I prefer the stability of a computer screen. And that is where I find myself on this Saturday night.

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Comments:

1. :(

   by Erin Poe on the 11th of July, 2005 at 3:12 PM GMT0. Permalink.

   Poor Rob, all alone all weekend. Don't worry, it's inevitable that you will come and visit the new place in the OC.

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