I’ve been living life, and life is good.
I want to share a journal entry from a year ago this very day. I’m in a better space now.
I’m working on an epic piece to share with you all soon that’ll let you know what’s been the focus of my life for the last 12 months. For now, enjoy this past participle…
I feel like I don’t want to talk to anyone anymore.
I mean, what’s the point, unless you’re tryna to communicate something that’s going to make a difference somehow.
I guess I’m tired of everyone’s opinion being right. I’m looking for the truth, not opinions. Is it wrong for people to believe what they want to believe in, even though it goes against what we believe? Who’s right? Who’s telling the truth?
Alternative facts are real. The 7 Chinese Brothers proved that…or was it the 3 Blind Chinamen? The story about some dudes feeling on an elephant, and each one of them describes the body part they’re feeling as if it were something else, like a tail for a rope or a leg as a tree trunk. It’s an elephant, but each one sees what they want to see. How am I different? I can see what they all see, and see why they can see it. There’s not a lot of people I know who can do that. I guess that’s why we stay on the fringe. We be looking at the mayhem. Though we see the whole, we play our part, which means we’re just as much a part of the mess!
My Lord, spare me the retribution of the last days. I can smell the end coming. I’ll do what I can, but forgive me for the rest, okay? And can I have some nice things in my life again? And please don’t let me die lonely and crazy.
I am back from the trenches. A lot of my personal woes have been too close to the heart to share with this crowd, or even Facebook for that matter. Work and parenting are certainly testing my limitations and motivations. I ask myself often, Why am I writing? Blogging ain’t paying the bills! I think about other work to make money to survive and buy stuff for the kids. Oh, the kids are getting bigger and need more stuff. I need to make more money!
I collaborate with a great group of people who are passionate about film and loyal friends as well. We continue to develop scripts and ideas that we hope will one day soon sell in the marketplace. The last five years we have all experienced the challenges of balancing parenthood, art and work. Since the hands on practice of filmmaking is on hold, we have all relapsed into our creative cocoons. They write screenplays while I focus on personal narratives, poetry, and developing a new old outlook on an old love: hip hop. The past few months I’ve had the opportunity to practice my photography skills with my DSLR instead of my phone camera.
The other day my sister comes over. She picks up a book I put together on Shutterfly, sitting on my coffee table. She can’t believe the beauty of the photo selection. “You took these?” “Yup.” “You’ve still got those pictures from the riots?” “Yeah.” I’ve been wanting to make a book from those photos for a long time. I admit that I have anxiety about starting projects that don’t require the hands on support of fellow visionaries. This is something that would carry my name on it. Sole credit. “What will it take to make the book?”
Dreams. promises. I try everything and I don’t give up. I write because I set things in motion from the words that stir from my fingertips. A person can think of what they want to do, but until those thoughts materialize as words and those words become actions, ideas will be the house of dreams and unkept promises.
Winter is coming quick. I set that as the deadline for a rewrite of my memoir. I’m going to smash a few pages out while I’m down from work these next few days. A friend sent me back notes on some poems I’m getting ready for publication. I want to work on those. Tomorrow isn’t promised. My buddy is going to show me how to shoot stars in the desert at the end of the month. It feels good to be back on this page.