down for the count up for the bill water, more water swallow a pill head full of broken shut your damn lips type in my logon man this pain rips check my to do list throttle a yell keep the damn light off Lord, i'm in hell responsibility headache is killing me punch out this deadline now make a b-line sunlight and dizziness throbbing and sleepless poetry rounding forehead pounding oh for a temperate dark quiet room to wrap me in stasis, a comforting tomb.
You iron neck-clasper. You heart-thumping tasker. Indifferent to yearning, your constant page turning gives no pause for rest - just unending test. Tick off, Time! You bat out of hell; You thoughtless vulgarity trolling the bell! Be gone, Time! And leave us to dwell in transparent void fabric, fondling the quell. Cease fire, Time! The war to a close, a permanent armistice, "little while" froze. Yet now we are stalling our possibles lulling. This present now lasting our longing now fasting. This moment relates no past/future fates. Noble Time, be our friend. Slow your tock, physics bend. Give us hum, Beating Drum. Let us dance to your strum. Change your race to a walk; feel the sun; have a talk. Whisper sweet nothings into our ears - find adoration stroking your years.
I wanted to capture how we have such a love-hate relationship with time. We stress over deadlines and regret how much it takes from us in the form of moments we wish we could spend cherishing a little longer. Yet we need it to appreciate moments, to strive for better moments; and we wouldn’t seek to improve the quality of our time if we were trapped in a vacuum … even if that bubble was a “time-loop” that let us enjoy the best memory or most enjoyable time we’ve ever had. Then there’s the traditional fear of “what am I missing, being caught up in this cycle of sleep, work, home, sleep, work, home.
Get this! I went looking for a picture or a video that could symbolize this stream of thought and I found better! Jazz is the perfect music to capture this thread. And the artists that put Maurice Brown’s video together present this point perfectly! Enjoy!
come some slipping down time tick kicking my mind with tipping tock bind to little brittle life grime says to me, "get on the ball with your crackle of fall crumpled up memory, small no more puttings in there, doll." too much slice of that there holds me from my large all locks me in duty square slugs me with my all no ground, fly and do no hush, rush to get done so much, counting on you time not only doesn't wait it pulls sinews like taffy, strings hopes to a line where they stiffen and start to smell moldy
One day I came home from work and wanted to veg. I wanted to eat junk food and watch whatever was on the stupid box. I needed escape … relief from the madness of the deadline riddled world of work. But I couldn’t find the remote. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. The cabin where I’m staying has satellite cable, so if you don’t have the remote, you can’t watch. I gave up after about ten minutes of looking for it. Ten minutes of my life, wasted.
The junk food in the house wasn’t what I wanted so I traipsed off to the grocery store and bought a milky way candy bar and a diet coke. It’s not enough anymore to just buy the regular candy bar, you have to buy the king size. That way you can eat one of the halves and twist it shut for freshness, saving the other half for another time. Only that never happens.
When I finished my “dinner” and had messed around on my mac, I brought my kindle e-reader and mac into my room to try and lay down and get tired. That’s when I discovered that the remote was on the twin bed opposite mine where I keep my suitcase and stack of books. Silly me. So instead of going to sleep at a decent hour, I turned on Apocolypse Now (the only thing on that wasn’t telling me about my belly fat, selling me jewelry, or spewing right or left wing propaganda).
Marlon Brando was performing his intense monologue with the Francis Ford Coppola shadow lighting that emphasized everything he said about making horror your friend. He was describing his memory of little inoculated arms that rebel forces had hacked off children and put in a pile. I remembered how riveted I had been the first time I had watched this movie. I was hypnotized and even pondered once more the words that Col. Kurtz was saying. I awoke two hours later and went to bed.
I didn’t dream. In fact, I slept more soundly than I have in a long time. I awoke refreshed and thought to myself, “Today I will make stress my friend.”
So here now is my rendition of the afore mentioned monologue from Apocalypse Now.
I’ve seen stress, stress that you’ve seen. But you have no right to call me a manic hormonal bitch. You have a right to fear me, you have a right to do that, but you have no right to judge me. It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what stress is.
… Stress. Stress has a face … And you must make a friend of stress. Stress and burnout are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was in the Hotel/Resort business … seems a thousand centuries ago … we had discounted our rates to undercut our competitors and sell out. We were overbooked and actually sent five people to the hotel next door after they arrived and all our rooms were sold. After we sold out, the manager on duty that night came running to the front desk and he was sweating. He couldn’t breath. We checked online with our competitors and they had also sold out. They had posted a sign on their marquee stating “No invisible rooms here.” No invisible rooms. And I remember… I … I … I cried … wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my hair out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized … like I was shot … Like I was shot with a diamond … a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God … the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they was stronger than we. Because they could back that, these were not monsters … these were salespeople … educated hospitality people … who fought with their hearts … who had families, who had children, who were filled with love … but they had the strength … the strength to do that. If I had ten divisions of those people my troubles in everyday deadlines and strategic planning would be over very quickly. You have to have people who are moral … and at the same time are able to utilize their primordial instincts to drive a point home without feeling … without passion … without judgement … without judgement. Because it’s judgement that defeats us.
I went on a trip on a train. I played my role as devoted, loving partner and got a little time with my Love. I found my story on the train ride back. I can’t write anything else.
Now I’m stuck on 4000 words. Approximately 180,000 words according to King’s book On Writing, and I’m stuck at 4000. I don’t know if it’s being off my routine so long, the stress at work, or being away from M and all that is comforting, but I can’t get the rest out. When I try, my head hurts. Yet I don’t have anything else that feels worth writing.
In my slump I find that when I can’t look at the screen and see the story my next inclination is to slither into slothfulness. I even turned on the stupid box today. Feels like I’m losing.
Don’t give up on me. I strive for perfection and fall short every time. I don’t sleep regular hours and rarely stay down all through the night, but that’s not why I’m restless. Stress throbs my temples and you know what that feels like. Bear with me.
I only give up about ten times a day. If I had a dime for every time I got side-tracked … Just have a little faith. This could get scary and time is the only damn thing that will tell. There’s a lot riding on my efforts so have a heart.
All I need is your confidence and occasional encouragement. I can watch as the cracks form in the sky. I don’t mind bearing the weight of the continents on my shoulders. I can take it when all seems lost and tomorrow could totally crumble around my weary corpse. Don’t look at me.
I don’t care about the money, or the clock ticking. I will keep moving forward little by lots, blow by blow, life and limb. Just don’t ever give up on me.
- this i’m not (Oct 1999) (inturruptingcow.wordpress.com)