Saturday, April 13, 2013

AFTER THE GUN - 'ambient reflections of the last hurrah'.........

(welcome to experimental literature 101, the advance class....in the words of Jim Morrison, 'Out here we IS stoned ....Immaculate.' Well, we might not be stoned,...but we are definitely Out THERE. Enjoy, share, create, ...then repeat. - b2)

Someone once sad that writing is like therapy, only cheaper. They left out the part about writing being much, much more painful than any modern therapy, including the shock variety.

There was a time that writers were more prevalent than lawyer jokes, and only half as witty. Soccer moms and corner suite execs alike were all taking desk top publishing to new heights daily.  Overnight successes were completing the talk show circuit before dusk and flashing the pan prior to it reaching pre-heat temp.

Me, well, I'm as old school as you can get. Yes, I have some pretty nifty cloud tools at my disposal, my phone does more than my desktop can fathom, but at the end of the day....my IBM Selectric can kick all their asses.

But I did not log on today to discuss technical advances, or lack there of. We are here today to speak of the unspoken. To uncover the shit no one wants to talk about. The stuff that your friends laugh off in mixed company. Yeah,....I'm going THERE.

Mental illness has taken a backseat since 'The Shining' and, if my jaded memory serves me right, back then there were no seat belts back there. Nor had airbags been invented. Hell, even anti-lock brakes were still only a drawing board theory. And, oh, by the way. If you are not familiar with 'drawing boards, of the green-chalk variety' ,....well, then you can go perform a physical improbability on yourself'.

For the rest of us, let's not waste any further precious time on anything moot, elementary, or otherwise rudimentary, or junior high.

I was homeless. There it is, I said it out loud. My therapist would be proud.

I have suffered from PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder -  for over five years. There it is, I wrote it out loud. My therapist should give me a pro-rated refund.

But things are 'different' now. It's what we like to call the 'new normal'. There is, in fact, nothing new about it. And if you want to be perfectly phreaking' honest, normal is not the first word that comes to mind.

But now I have a tool at my disposal. Not a new tool, and not something provided to me by a well meaning mental health professional. But something that I have always had in my belt.

My writing.

It may be elementary. It may be hard to follow. It is definitely situational.

But it is mine. And it IS relevant.

NOW. The real question at hand.


.....is it worth sharing.

'well of course it is, ass-hole'

and so it goes. I ask for a response, and don't ya' know it. I get one. from the voice in my head.

and I thought we had moved on.


 we have moved beyond being 'under the gun'. welcome to After The Gun....experimental literature, Appalachian style.... - b2

1 comment:

  1. I slept in the back a of a VW station wagon, a 1600 square back to be exact. No car seat no belts that I recall. I didn't really sleep I watched the heat lighting cross the sky's on our ride home.

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