Au is back!… not really, I still have to put myself together, and that will probably take some days, or more. First I was depressed about the last post, then sick birds coming to me… another wave of illnesses constantly supplying the hospital with patients, not only but particularly a small twist-neck virus epidemic, small because it has been very fast and lethal this time, which, maybe, its probably good, Ive seen very bad cases… so far only one has been able to recover from that, she actually made the hospital her home, and got attached to me, then she was able to recover and now one of the friendly ones, if I didnt remember, I wouldnt be able to tell she was so sick.
The other day I was thinking, I have never consider myself a writer but a, some sort of storyteller, mostly because I often tell stories about the self, so, unlike a normal writer, I have no idea of how is going to react on the audience, I do try my best to be honest and give the proper form so the message remains the same as the thought.
In a conversation I had the other day, I remembered how since the beginning of doing this, as I started to write the stories, I liked them complex and emotional, like a punch in the face coming from different places, but I also decided, I want it to be the way I talk, normally, the common me, so I could reproduce it any day, again and again, naturally. You could argue that you grow up and improve yourself, but what I really want is the language to be like my Mother taught to me. Funnily enough, I can hardly reproduce her ways in a direct manner. Which reminds me, while Aurora is a, emh, weird combination of her Mother, grandmother and father, her cousin is very similar to her Mother, which explains the heavy attraction…
Ill try a couple of examples that say a lot with simple words, from a “fictional” story, Ashes to Illusions:
If I could be anything in this world that flew
I would be a duck and come, swimming after you
The last time I was there, I couldnt make it through
Dont you know what happens after dark?
When the water keeps flowing and it sounds
And all the hunters lost their sight
Now that its day, all the grass essence
The insects and birds
All the trees and shadows
Are calling after you.
When you do this sort of thing, you have to forget about the normal connection of sentences and ideas, and absolutely forget about explaining every little detail, an “I wasn’t born yesterday” so you can focus on your “crazy” that is not that, emh, lets say common. You must get there without actually saying it.
If I could be anything in this world that dies
I would be you and say, theres no note just say a lie
But the funny thing is what happened to his nose
It grew until it reached his own torn toes
I threw peanuts and salt, with leftovers from lunch
Oh, he knows, he said
Tell your friends to take care of the rest
Now all the teeth are calling out for you.
I love the way she says he killed himself, and how it wasnt pretty… “oh, he knows, he said”, worry not. A lot goes in attributes of personality becoming the image.
A big thank you to Michael Aitken at Painting, Songwriting and Poetry to for his contribution to this artistic effort and pigeon care.
You know, sometimes I want to write about history, cause it gets interesting once past the eternal state of war, the classic of the great empire that later divides, and how its easy to realize “everything revolves around power” and these are “horrible people”, everything else seems like an excuse. On the other hand, “…you must construct…”. It has to be done. And everything repeats again and again.
It tell us about the old empires conquering each other, the focus of the author is about christianity and the end of ancient eras, you peasants are not a toy of the imperial gods anymore, check it out!
Help me feed my Pigeons!
Drawing Commissions are open and cheap!