Music Project: "18 and Life" by Skid Row

The Fantastically Mediocre Life of Gary

“There’s a paper jam in the copy machine again.”

The disembodied voice penetrated the cubicle wall but reached only Gary’s ears. Slowly he arises from his ergonomically made chair and exits his cluttered work area into the microcosm that is SubStandard Insurance (It’s for the people!). He goes to work on the enjambment but his mind is not in the work no it is back on a picture he happened upon on Facebook which Jake his high school friend posted and tagged from my “glory days.” This was when I had hair, luxurious locks that graced my shoulders and hid the pockmarks. I was damn hard, and all the chicks digged me and Ricky. Jake, not so much. I remember my first tape; it was Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast. This was before Nirvana destroyed my music, before I knocked Charlotte up with our first kid. Gary, how’s that jam coming? It’s coming, sir. I’m almost done. He focuses on the task, but how can I concentrate when my life’s in the shits? I wasn’t ready to be a father at eighteen, and I’ve been here ever since, scratching a life for an ungrateful family. Why can’t you make more, Gerald? She only calls me Gerald when she’s pissed. Lately she’s been that. The kids aren’t much better. They won’t even talk to me; they’re ashamed of me, the minivan, the small house we rent out because I can’t afford better. I try talking, but they just put those damn earbuds in and tune out. Gary, I have customers waiting for estimates; could you hurry up just a teeny bit? Well Carol, this jam is pretty big. You’re going to need professional help. You are the profess… No, not anymore. I need help. Gary? Gary, why are you shaking?

Music Project: An Introduction

Here's the idea. I am reshaping this blog into a creative writing source. In the next few weeks, I will be posting roughs of flash stories specifically revolving around songs given me by classmates, professors, readers, etc. What I want to achieve with this project is demonstrate a link between writing and music. How so?

I like music because of the stories I hear. Whether it's Clutch, Marvin Gaye, Talib Kweli, or Vivaldi, I see images coming from the lyrics and the musical movements. My problem til now is I usually don't know how to present these images into stories. One advantage of using a blog for the writing process is to get your input. Do the images make sense? Do you see the same story? If not, what do you see? As music is largely interpretative, readers will respond to these songs differently than I do. I just hope you see the creativity, and if not, appreciate the try.

So, with that terrible introduction, I look forward to your comments on these flash stories. If you like them, tell your friends, and send in more songs for this project.

Cheers,

Mike

Creative Writing

For my final project in this class, I have decided to experiment on my versatility. I have asked friends and classmates for favorite or good songs. This playlist will serve as the basis of a series of flash stories and poems. I will listen to the songs, try to find the stories and images. I will post progress on this blog as cross genres and media.
Here are a few of the songs given to me:

This is my choice.

Thanks, Cory.

From Emily.
If you have any ideas or songs, send them to me in the comments here.

Lecture From Brian Doyle

"If the doors of perception were cleansed, we would see everything as it is -infinite." -Blake

Unusual Intelligence and Humor are interconnected; spirituality also.

Humility is the Final Frontier of Existence.

"Writing, Editing and Money"

Words are terribly weak, but must be used to understand the abstract. Examples are God and love. Are there any words more used, but also confused?

Writing matters, more than I think it does. Great writing is an arrow that is shot into other's hearts; it's not about the author. Great writing becomes a part of another. We have nothing, are nothing, if we tell no stories. Stories are Everything! As long as we tell their stories, people live on. True stories have nothing to do with fiction or nonfiction. You can knock on them, and they resonate.

Writing: Being lost in a forest, with only a sharp pen to make your way home. "Learn to ask a question and then shut your pie hole." Silence is a great tool for writing. Really, then what? Put your butt in the chair and get started. 90% of the work is sitting down and starting a story. Don't sit down to write "literature;" just get the story out on paper. Writing is cathartic and a discovery. Avoid "me." Stories are prayer, food, the past, the heart, etc. Without them, man is but an empty ego. There is something great within stories that brings people together, and give selfishness and greed the finger. Writing comes in all shapes and forms; boil it down to power, verb and courage. Let others make sense of it.

Editing: A craft, not an art. Patty Ann Rogers -Great, American Poet. Editing is about clarity of thought. Editors are sparks, motivators. Poke people to see what they should write. Editing is clarifying; Does the piece have bones or not? Personal essay and poetry are most prone to egotism. Strip away the ego, so the truth (salt) of the piece comes out. Poke the author so blood and humor come out. Find the flow within the text. You can say a lot without a word.

If you can smell, catch, or tell a story, you are Marketable!

A Haiku

I wrote this, and put it on Thumbscribes for public scrutiny and editing. Here's the original:

Incandescent (A Series of Haikus)

Life is beautiful,

Illuminated by bulbs...

Life tinges on fraud.

Now we will see if others will alter or change this idea.

Woods and Chalices

That's the name of the book of poetry I'm reading by Tomaz Salamun. He's pretty good.

Waiting

I am sitting at a desk in Provo, about to teach an elementary school in South Korea. How interesting is that? With my new job and today's technology, I can reach out and talk to people across the world. But there is also points of disconnection.
Take for instance earlier today (by earlier I mean at 1:30 in the morning). I am teaching a young man in ChangYang Middle School, when his connection stopped. I tried calling several times, but to no avail. I lost connection.
I thought about this in terms of human interaction. How often do I "disconnect," meaning lose interest or focus. I may be present, but there is no communication.
Those are just some quick thoughts; I'll flesh them out later.