she plays with my eyes from a distance. running, running around. keeping my attention. dressed brightly with the sun lighting up her smile and her eyes in that unmistakable way.
it was only a phase.
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i constructed this canvas. i found the colors to make these paints. the image is in my head. everyone's been encouraging me to bring it to life. they have a good idea as well of what it will look like. it's so perfect. put it up for the world to see. they're waiting. you're waiting.
i've been standing in front of this spread for three months. i outlined the background and created the structure, but i can't bring myself to fill it in with the primary colors.
but i wanna. i fucking wanna.
i just cant figure out what technique to paint this portrait with. i want it to be perfect. and i won't settle for anything less.
i guess when you leave something for too long, eventually it rots.
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i'm feeling pushed aside. pushed aside by another artist whose going to finish this painting. pushed aside by their four point oh and their metaphoric catch phrases and their cool uncool flannels.
blow me, i did that first.
it sucks to be pushed aside by someone you admire so much. since day one and since the velvet underground and nico came up.
go to the fucking east coast with your pretentiousness. you and all your fucking friends. i'm fucking sick of looking at you and fucking sick of think about you.
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purple is a great color. apparently it's my power color.
you always recognize me approaching you when you catch glimpse of my purple circas when you're getting your books. apparently purple reminds you of me.
want to know what purple reminds me of?
it reminds me of what you wore that night. and how happy i was that night and how happy you were that night. and that that regret i felt from when i walked through the door until i passed out in someones basement. and that slightly confused and slightly discouraged feeling you felt that split second before you went back to your friends.
thats how i hope you felt.
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thank god it's you has to act and not me. with you around, i'm already acting. not good enough to get an oscar, obviously. this time i get to stand around and look pretty and you get to do the acting. oh, and that east coast esque artists gets to show me how bad i am.
it's funny how metaphoric my life and the high school drama department really are.
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and there's no blame for how your love did slowly fade
and now it's gone, it's like it wasnt there at all
and here i rest where disappointment and regret collide
lying awake at night
-ben gibbard
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i wish i could make words like i made riffs and i wish i could make riffs the way i make words. and i wish i could show you this. and i wish that i wasnt compulsive and i wish that i wasnt wrong. and i wish that i was ben gibbard on days like this. and i wish that i didn't feel the need to write all of this.
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i'm running out of things to say.
may i correct myself: i'm running out of things to bitch about.
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some old lady's singing. over that, some sad young man plays a bittersweet guitar arrangment. the skips and scratches of the vinyl soothingly proceeds as the bass progresses. a calm vocal expression of emotion recites.
he blinks, and his tears hit the floor.
loudly.
that sad riff keeps playing, and still he moves on.
this is not mine.
this is the moment.
i am the angry sun.
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play practice is going to kill me tonight.
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(first, an apology. i'm terrible at critiquing online, come to me in person sometime and i'll walk you through this more coherently)
ReplyDeleteAlright, you told me that you only really 'tried' on the first two sections, so I'm only really going to comment on those two.
I know this is stream of conscious, and the ideas flow like they very much are just bare, base emotions. That's fine, nothing wrong with that. What I AM having trouble working around is the wording. I feel like you're trying too hard to get an idea across in choppy ambiguity, in a way that almost comes off as forced. Prime example, 'i constructed this canvas. i found the colors to make these paints. the image is in my head. everyone's been encouraging me to bring it to life.' It just doesn't flow, doesn't work like it should. I appreciate that you don't try to overemphasize anything here (simplicity is often times a greater weapon than a huge reserve of big words, of course), but it almost ends up strangling you in the end. 'I found the colors to make these paints' is an especially awkward sentence, especially since you don't make paints out of colors. I personally would've said something more like 'I picked the berries from my ribs, ground them up into these paints' or something like that (that's just me, mind you). It's hard to say exactly what's going wrong here, but on average the words you pick just don't do a fantastic job of conveying the ideas you present, which, of course, is by and far the hardest thing to get down in writing.
I think, honestly, the problem is that your ideas are poetic, but the phrasing the prose doesn't have the elegance to carry the ideas themselves. You get what I'm saying? You know what you want to say, you know what's happening in your head and in your heart, but you don't know exactly how to paint it. Though, I suppose that's the problem you're outlining in the second section, anyways.
Fuck it, I'm tired. If you stop by on saturday hit me up and I'll go over this with you in more detail.