Writings from Walleye #6 12/13/15

 

For anyone that stumbles across this, walleye is a weekly writing and movement workshop in Seattle that I went to for a couple of years.  Now that I have moved away to go to college, it has been awhile since I have been.  I was lucky enough to make it back today and it still inspires me.

Here is my writing from today.  It's not supposed to make sense, it's just what comes out, unedited.

How to be your own decorator:

        PART 1

        intelligent-keen, subtle, sharp, knowing, downy, wide-awake, gnostic
        intelligence is the ability to start a fire and then to get out of the way of its burning.
        intelligence is growing sharp teeth when the time has come to eat.
        intelligence is conversing with the clouds and listening to their advice.
        intelligence is knowing the value of (k)not knowing.

        death bell-passing bell, knell
        debris-eluvium
        decay-decline, ruin
        possess

        In the distance, a bell is ringing; knell.  Someone is passing by, someone is passing through, someone is passing on.  What do I possess?  The whole of the world.  Intangible.  I sit upon a saddle and am myself saddled.  .listen.listen.listen.  In the distance I hear thunder and a bell.  .listen.listen.listen.

        PART 2

       "There are innumerable smart and fascinating varieties of trimmings and finishes."

        More than  one.  Far more than one branch blown from the tree, blown by the wind.  More than two,  branches laying.  The wind sings its old song and we all howl in unison.  Three and more than three branches.  I have lost count; bright holes poked into the black sky and the world is tearing and being torn.  Four branches and then five still seem to be creaking there where they lie.  Six and more than six lies, told with a twisted and tattered tongue; a tangled mess of stories.  Stories of the day you were born before you knew the space between the ground and the sky, no sense of differentiation.  Nonsense and what difference does it make?  Six beetles scramble across the floor.  Six nails holding the wings to the wall.  Six bent and broken forks, tuned to the frequency of nothing, lie buried in the dirt at your feet and your toes are there and they are squirming.

     

     

     

So amazing......

in so many ways.  Doug Peacock is awesome and seeing him with Arnold Scwarzenegger is surreal.

<>-----------------IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-----------------<>

A howl in the night issues forth.
You call for silence, "Silence!" you say.
The night does not exist to cool you.
The night is on fire with one thousand screams;
screams of lust and screams of death.
Outside of your home, there is nothing for you to claim
but the memory of a howl in the night.

2014, The year of Abbey.

For the last few years, I have been trying to keep a record of all the books that I have read each year.  Three years ago, I posted my reading list to this blog.  My then roommate said that she thought it was a bit pretentious of me to assume that anyone would care what I had read.  If you know me, then you know that one of my favorite things to do, is share books that I love with people that I love.  Truth be told, I am even happy to share books I love with people  that I don't much care for.  Who knows, maybe if they read some of the books that I have suggested, they will be better people  (I'm kidding.)  I know that certain books have made me a better person and blown my brain wide open with brilliant and poetic ideas that hadn't yet occurred to me.

Last year, I didn't do so good at keeping a list, so didn't post one.  Maybe I was still feeling self conscious of coming across as pretentious.  Due to the small number of people who have ever looked at this blog, it's hard to imagine coming across any sort of way.  This year, I had planned to post my reading list again but then I went ahead and lost the whole thing.  This leaves me little to post.

However, one thing that stood out about my reading this year is my new found love of Edward Abbey.  I read six books by him in 2014 and, other than the year I was busy loving Richard Brautigan, I don't believe that I have ever read so many books by one author.  The books that I read, in the order I read them, were The Fool's Progress, The Brave Cowboy, The Monkeywrench Gang, Haduke Lives!, Fire on the Mountain and Desert Solitaire. 

I had known of Edward Abbey's books for years but for some reason, foolishly had never read him.  Although I don't agree with every single opinion that he expresses, I find that he is a person of great character, who was not afraid to speak from his heart and to me those are noble things to find in a writer.  As our country become more and more homogenous and people lose themselves in social networking and the sticky web, of the world wide variety, we need more larger than life, bold, wild characters to remind us what it is we are voluntarily giving up.  Who are these iconoclasts today?  Is there still room in this world for untamed souls to shout at us from the wilderness?  Is anyone even willing to listen?

I for one am glad to lend my ear and hope to someday be among the voices doing the shouting.  I thank Edward Abbey for sharing a voice of dissent and sharing it loudly.  I thank Edward Abbey for speaking for the last of the wilderness that we have left in this country.  I hope that in his lifetime, he knew that some people were listening.  I hope that wherever old Ed is resting in the American desert, that his soul is sleeping well and that his wish, "I want my body to help fertilize the growth of a cactus or cliff rose or sagebrush or tree.", has come true.  I hope that someday, I can also break the law in death and that my body can pay it's due.

Thank you, Ed.