Look upon my life and don't do the
things I do. Don't separate yourself from the people around you because of shame
or doubt. Don't be a self-involved and inward-focused mooncalf.
I used to jest that I'm writing a
book titled The 1,000 Habits of a Highly Ineffective Person, but
now I'm actually reminiscing about life and writing more about my past. I'm
actually thinking about my time abroad and putting it
into words. Today, I finished the final touches on a short story about the time
I went to a friend’s house to see the spirit of his deceased younger brother conjured by a Tamil witch . . . and it’s not fiction.
I'm thinking about the values of
the beautiful people I lived around in Tamil Nadu and other places, and how
community and family should be stronger values in my life and eclipse the “rugged
individualism” that the U.S. system installed in me.
For stupid reasons, I gave up on
the dream of writing after I pursued an MFA. I fled the American economy to
work overseas, and I didn't submit any short story or poetry publications to
journals or magazines for over ten years.
But that’s behind me.
Coming back to writing means
writing the things I love and not just writing to be published inside of this
or that journal or to impress people in this or that group. When I sit down to
write now, I'm not writing to project an identity. I want to splatter the page
with visions of the future and the terror of the past. I want to write the
things I want to read that no one else is writing.
Some of my old stuff is linked
below. Most of the journals I was in are no longer available. I just have
tattered copies of them on my shelf. Maybe I’ll take pics and post them on here
someday.
Not all of it was tripe . . . some
of it was fun and different:
The Circum-Migration of the Animalis Manes: 3:AM MAGAZINE.
Five Steps in Your Evolution: MONKEYBICYCLE.
Las Vegas: 3:AM MAGAZINE.
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