song of the week: johnny cash, sunday morning coming down
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBWFJ85n_w0
writing sure is funny when you're on holiday. sure, there are things to talk about. but they're mostly all details: things you see, foods you eat, places you visit, people you meet, and the random things you think about off the top of your head, i.e. without much rumination. and as much as i'd like to be writing about things to help me remember (and therefore to cherish) them, i don't think that's the way i write. at any rate, i don't think that's the way i'd like to be writing. i think, create, improvise from ideas, from feelings, from themes, things that i think about in places where i go to do my thinking, sorta like as a groundswell of thematic ideas. and then the details matter, the details catch me at moments, and shimmer through to my mind's eye. and not before, i think, not the other way around. life is full of details that flash by because we're not paying attention, because our mind isn't in the right place, receptive to the right thing. and all the things we see are just details, all the things we don't see are just periphery. but when something pops by at the right time and in the right place, it fits into the mind like a piece of an impressionary jigsaw puzzle. and a detail like that becomes an emblem, a motif, a signet.
and going on about my writing process, something i don't think i've ever done (blissfully ignoring the most part of it as being simply "inspiration"), i like to fix my mind on a strong idea or feeling that i have, something which usually is allowed to drift in my subconscious for awhile (the idea of permitting subconscious thought being perhaps illogical), and something i sort of test for worthiness before being mindfully engaged (i.e. whether the idea is genuine, sound and valid, isn't selfish or foolish, etc.). i then tend to think about it at length in a preferred place, i.e. during/ after exercise, on a bus, out my window, or at my desk. if a chance jigsaw detail or two fits in, i put some story angles and subplots together, arrange them in order as if it were a full story, and off i go. and i realise that i tend to write in threes, and i like to use fitting adjectives and apter synonyms. i try not to say more that i have to, but i also try to catch the feeling of my thoughts, spirit and letter. i like my themes to resonate from start to end.
my aim in writing is to read the things i've written and hopefully manage to re-live the same sort of feelings that were felt at that point. and then, if all goes well, i want to judge that my writing is mature and sound. and i do want to feel that i'm writing something that will always be good enough for my own reading. that's it. and i try not to edit, or to re-arrange stuff, to preserve the initial thinking chronology.
anyway, the funny thing for me is that i'm not homesick anymore (i was before leaving). it might be back later, but right now, i really like this country. it's pretty flat all round, doing okay economically, really cheery sort of place, almost fully english speaking, and nicer than i think south africa was. i'm even starting to hear things with an aussie accent, which is pretty funny. the stars are beautiful too, this bed is comfy too, the dog is really great too. see, all just details. somewhere stage left, life is churning out all these little details, and somewhere stage right, life is just laughing them off.
you know, last night i was looking at the stars, and i've probably not seen them like that before. and i thought, not at all sadly, no, i thought, rather seriously, and i don't know if i'm dreaming, but i meant it, i meant it, i thought, girl, if you were here, i'd try to kiss you.
