Day 137. poem, forgotten miles
Musing. Listening to A Long Way Down (for the fourth time). Other ideas. Thoughts. Images. Made this:
forgotten miles
forgotten miles walking bent double head black crying
eyes fallen angels falling tears falling stars
how much more can it scrape and bleed and tear
a plowshare beaten to a sword
carving up flesh
pound by dripping pound
you think you know
but this is not that
you have no idea
what you think
now it’s breaking
that wall and that wall and that wall
and that wall was always broken
could never contain
that secret desire
safe secure certainty
what can you know of this in your security
how far have you flown
never leaping
how close to the sun have you been
never burned
this is not what you think it is
not what you thought it was
not what you think it would be
it isn’t wasn’t mustn’t couldn’t shouldn’t needn’t didn’t
probably won’t
but will
your years have robbed the memory
the thrilling sacred experience
flame stolen and searing
perfect and painful
sweet and secret
kisses fluttering like moths
against the lips of we mortals
kisses meant for gods
the tasting is screaming
crying unable to retain the passion
eyes streaming
feet marching
the forgotten miles
the brutal blazing currency
of this devotion
of this love
of this truth
Day 87. Tweeple Telling Stories
Sothe BBC and Neil Gaiman have a little project going on utilizing Twitter. Neil started a story with a one tweet line and then hordes of fans started tweeting the next line. Someone on the other end would then choose the “best” one and post it, then the process repeats. Apparently, when the story is complete, NFG is going to sit down and read it for BBC Audio Books. More info can be found here: http://bbcaudiobooksamerica.com/TradeHome/Blog/tabid/58/Default.aspx
I was pretty jazzed about it at first. It seemed pretty nifty. After it went on for the day and into the next day (and the next and the next) I realized that it was the same people getting their tweets into the story and it seemed kind of herky-jerky to me - like teach of the people in the cadre were battling for control of the narrative. There were only a few out and out curve balls that felt like the usual game where people tell a story in sequence like this - you know, like “and then a house fell out of the sky, crushing the french hairdressers and the chattering girl scouts” after which someone else says “but they were all right because Tina Turner was there” or something stupid like that. So, yeah there were only a few of those moments (avacados, WTF?).
I would also like to say that in my opinion the story took a really silly bend right off the bat. The setup was this line: Sam was brushing her hair when the girl in the mirror put down the hairbrush, smiled & said, “We don’t love you anymore.” Now, I realize that it could take a while to get to the point of the line that Sam’s reflection says, but man, people just kind of overlooked it and forgot it. One of the reasons I stopped trying to follow and or contribute. That, and the sour grapes, hA!
Regardless, I was still jazzed to get two of my lines into the mix. I know, right? Two tweets and I feel all happy and complete. Oh well, it really is the little things that count. For what it’s worth, here are my two massive contributions to the story:
#bbcawdio“But she made a deal once and traded her heart for another’s life.”6:07 AM Oct 15th from TweetDeck
&
#BBCAwdio The night sky cool against her cheek, Sam watched as the ground slipped away, the chariot bound for destinations unknown.11:48 AM Oct 15th from TweetDeck
Woo. I was excited at the time. Now, I still think it’s cool. For those that have been contributing all of those tweets. Get a job. Get a hobby. Get a freaking life. How the hell can you sit at the computer all day for over a week and keep tweeting? It’s like playing a MMORPG - the bastards that stay up all day and night macroing and leveling up by finding the cheats get all the uber loot.
Ha, I’m not bitter, I’m better for having a hobby. Day 87, good enough.
