And the award goes to...
It has been a while, yes? I'm positive my brain is like a battery that only has a limited amount of creative juices sloshing around in my noggin'. These juices were expended while recording Dogmatic's latest album and writing endless drafts of poetry for my writing class (yes, poetry). After exhausting my creative reserve I needed time to relax and let my battery recharge; or I have just been procrastinating... one of the two. Whatever the reason, I'm sure it would be better for my blog if I wrote on a scheduled basis. So from here on in I'll have an entry at the end of each week.
I mentioned I'm writing poetry now (I know, I'm as confused as you are). I enrolled myself in a class for creating works of fiction thinking I'd be writing short stories. Not until the first class did I find out the first half of the semester is all about poetry, modern poetry. If you are not familiar with modern poetry, let me give you an example:
Bottle of water
Standing tall on my desk
Filled with life
I like burritos
No rhyming, meter, or meaning. Just spouting out random lines under the pretext of artistic intention. This is what I thought about modern poetry. Now after reading a modern poetry book and listening to my instructor wax philosophical on the subject... I am converted. I have seen many modern poems can be even more truthful and creative by not adhering to the old rules. Not limited by having to rhyme or be a certain length. With my new found respect of modern poetry I haven't shunned the old construct, but rather see the two styles as peers; both having an equal number of crappy poetry.
For some reason I felt compelled to watch the Grammys on Sunday. I believe it was for no other reason than to predict each obvious winner to make myself feel like I posses some innate psychic ability. Other than amusing me, the program also taught me some valuable lessons. For example: To ensure you are nominated for album of the year, get a gaggle famous musicians and have them duet songs with you. It worked for Santana and Ray Charles, it can work for you! Once you are nominated for "Album Of The Year", to guarantee a win you need to die. The sympathy vote always overpowers substance.
I mentioned I'm writing poetry now (I know, I'm as confused as you are). I enrolled myself in a class for creating works of fiction thinking I'd be writing short stories. Not until the first class did I find out the first half of the semester is all about poetry, modern poetry. If you are not familiar with modern poetry, let me give you an example:
Bottle of water
Standing tall on my desk
Filled with life
I like burritos
No rhyming, meter, or meaning. Just spouting out random lines under the pretext of artistic intention. This is what I thought about modern poetry. Now after reading a modern poetry book and listening to my instructor wax philosophical on the subject... I am converted. I have seen many modern poems can be even more truthful and creative by not adhering to the old rules. Not limited by having to rhyme or be a certain length. With my new found respect of modern poetry I haven't shunned the old construct, but rather see the two styles as peers; both having an equal number of crappy poetry.
For some reason I felt compelled to watch the Grammys on Sunday. I believe it was for no other reason than to predict each obvious winner to make myself feel like I posses some innate psychic ability. Other than amusing me, the program also taught me some valuable lessons. For example: To ensure you are nominated for album of the year, get a gaggle famous musicians and have them duet songs with you. It worked for Santana and Ray Charles, it can work for you! Once you are nominated for "Album Of The Year", to guarantee a win you need to die. The sympathy vote always overpowers substance.
posted by Garry at 5:40 PM
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