January 9th 2012

January 9, 2012

Well, this is my first post of 2012. Since uni finished last semester I kinda fell off a step, got trapped in work and parties and just not doing much, but I have been scratching a few poems out and have decided to finish off my third novel, the second, and hopefully final, after Glint.

I still have the story and themes strong in my mind and I think my prose writing is getting stronger and I really want to see where the characters go. Especially the main character, Guus. He’s just fallen in love and I really want to see what happens his love gets murdered. A bit strange? Depraved? Well it is the journey of a person which is the central theme. I am interested to see how well I have shaped him basically from a naive young man, into a confident brave man, into a raged filled hate monger into…I don’t know, but I’m excited to see. So I will try to write a bit each day, even though work has my balls in a noose atm. Anyway.

About the poetry I have started a few and just finished one. I’m not going to post it up here. Just yet. It is the first legitimate love poem I have written in ernest, which is strange for me, having never really committed to the notion before. The whole idea of love poetry sends a shudder down my spine with feelings of scepticism and embarrassment. I like the ideal of love, but am not sure it can exist in the long term, or at the same time between two people. Well, it can, but briefly. It is very transient. I guess if you can get that mutual love, intensity, at the same instance, then it goes beyond infatuation and becomes a beautiful thing. I’m sure Romeo and Juliet would have been pretty fond of each other after a few years, but that passion may just lay beneath, like a deep smouldering fire. That is a beautiful thing in itself. The passionate feelings can’t last that long. In life it seems the passion gets turned into hatred more often than not. Well, that is what we notice anyway. No one really gives a pair about the mundane day to day, do they? But who knows about it all. I’m just snowballing. I guess that’s why it’s one of the enduring themes of writing. Like death. We’ll never know (cue Twighlight Zone theme song)…

…but moving on from THAT, as with all my poetry, it’s all introspective, critical (for myself, cathartic) so I’m not sure how it will go down. There are no flowers. More fire. It’s honest, and in this world that’s all you can be. If you’ve read any of my previous rants, being honest (in writing and generally in life) is the only way I can be other wise I’m just cheating the ones around you. However, discretion is the better part of valour, of course, so if I’m quiet I’m generally just be valorous and waiting for a nice, poignant moment to call you a dickhead. None of this is advice, of course. Just me saying a bunch of unfounded rehashed sentiments.

One that, good night, and I’ll post some writing soon.





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