To Tide You Over.

So my once a week publish was interrupted rudely by an idea for a poem that seems to be slow to develop. I finally gave in and decided to let my thoughts take their own time and just post a filler until I could complete this monster of a poem. Hopefully after all this prep and struggle to even get things ready for this stubborn brain child it doesn't end in disappointment. I have to say the subject matter is very close to my heart right now and defiantly something I struggle with and can relate to. Perhaps that is what is making it so difficult to write. I suppose it's more difficult to write on a subject you cannot be objective about. Well, for a writer like me it is anyway. I'm not a "from the heart" writer full of flowers, and love, and grief as much as a "from the mind" writer when it comes to my poetry. I use prose to rant my feelings more than poetry, and I suppose in the community of writers that's an odd sort of quirk.

Off the topic of conversation to an extent. We're still in the general town of discussing "writing" we're just taking a back road into the country of hate. I don't know how many of you live around this area, thus having access to a little alternative publication called "Creative Loafing." If your so bored as to read the articles you find squeezed between the risque adds of this publication, you may have run across a writer who calls herself "Mood swing." The use of having a pen name when your picture is plastered beside every article you write will always be beyond me. Not only is this foul mouthed middle aged vixen of writing employed, but she also apparently founded and oversees a "writing school" (note the quotes) called "the shocking real life writing academy." The fact that "academy" is allowed to be on the end of that name in itself is some serious form of heresy to anyone out there that has a degree in writing. She also has blessed us with a website to basque in more of her unfiltered glory at http://www.hollisgillespie.com/. I will have to admit I have never been to the web page because like most sane citizens, torturing myself is not a pass time. The fact that "shocking real life writing" is "taught" at an "academy" bugs me up and down in more ways than I can possibly explain. First off if you have to curse and throw out every slang, derogatory, and offensive term you know to make people read your work, go back to journalism school and learn to write something worthwhile with intrinsic value. Secondly, would you leave some dignity in art? this is not the "real world" or "road rules" from MTV, and if it ever turns out to be, I'll see what I can do about returning my diploma for a refund. I don't know about every other reader out there, but I do not require a journalist to remind me how we speak and act on the street on an every day basis, or the general boring drivel that seeps off the tongue of the stodgy every 30 seconds. The fact that you can found a school for something that happens with regularity and without thought, effort, or restrain is just something else all together. This brings me back to a point I made in a previous post. There is art, and there is crap. This my friends is not art, so it must be the other. Just because you can transport your unfiltered mouth from thoughts to paper doesn't make you a renowned writer, or a writer worth your salt. My stick people are no more a piece of art sitting beside a Monet as madam Mood swings columns are master pieces when paired with a piece of writing from Lord Byron. I apologize if I have ruined your mood Ms. Swing, but I have some respect left for the dignity of this art.