The Crappy Poet

I'm a twenty-something edging past newlywed and new dog owner. I run, write, I work. What else is there besides the struggle to overcome all of that and make something of myself...


Faced with Incompetence Yet Again

So last night we went to the Halestorm/Flyleaf/Seether/Shinedown concert in Phoenix. We had to leave during Shinedown because we had a 1 1/2 hour drive home to make and it was already late, but I wanted to stay because it was an awesome show at a smallish venue, so you really felt a part of the action. I would totally recommend seeing any of the latter three live. If you like mp3's, check out Seether's "Remedy," Flyleaf's "Fully Alive," and Shinedown's latest release, which has "fly" in the title. Fly on down, or something like that.

However, being around all the live music reminded me of a story idea that I have been working on since college but have never managed to finish. It was a story that started off about one thing, and ended up being about a guy who writes songs for a garage band that becomes famous. I don't have any experience with garage bands, or touring, and I don't even know how people go about about reconciling words with music in the creative process, so I am at a stalemate. But when I get around music that I connect with, it takes me to a soulful place that makes me want to retreat into the plot line in my head and just write. I know that it's always there, more visible when I am not content with my life than not, and that makes it somewhat harder to tap into, maybe because I am fine with existing in the real world and don't have to escape into my head. I need to figure out a way to keep that world accessible at all times, but I don't know how to do that yet. Due to this shitty state of happiness as of late, I haven't even been writing crappy poetry. I got nothing. Which makes me wonder: is happiness my writer's block?


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