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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “8 megapixel art”

Breathing

days PNG

I don’t overshare.

Yes, I have thoughts.  Yes, I have feelings.  No, I don’t put them out there, all heart on my sleeve, for the world at large to see and sift through.  I had that, in no uncertain terms, kicked outta me years and years ago by someone I loved, and that was enough for one lifetime.  Of course now, it’s taken as a sign of unwillingness on my part to be intimate, but whatever.  It’s my sleeve, and I’ll leave it bare if I want to.

A while ago, I mastered the art of Vaguebooking, but was told, in equally certain terms, that behavior like that only alienates folks from getting to know the real me, but for me, it’s easier to speak the truth I know people want to hear, or just say nothing at all.  Again, the feelings are there, I’ve just been conditioned to keep them to myself.

It doesn’t make for many friends or lovers, but I’ve become reconciled with that, believing, until recently, that when it comes to pain in the heart places, less is better.

Yeah, I said “until recently”.

See, I’ve been going through a Fuck Ton of things in the last year, and thought I could poet my way through them.  Thought I could silent my way through them.  Thought I could Vaguebook my way through them.    

I’ve been going through a Fuck Ton of things in the last year, and I had to finally say something.  The only way I know how.

After the fact.

 ***

A friend of mine, a really good friend, recently told me something that, in the moment, froze my bones.  That something was,

“With change comes sacrifice.”

I didn’t say it in that moment, but I truly hated those words.  Things had been changing so rapidly in my life that the last thing I wanted to hear was that, with all this change, I was going to have to “sacrifice” something or somethings I still held onto like a cheap life jacket after the leaky boat sinks.  I was barely hanging on as it was, and NOW comes sacrifice?

***

On a seemingly unrelated note, a few weeks before this, I had begun the practice of spoken affirmations.  Not the kind you might think, but the kind that only I would think to practice.  Notice I did not say positive affirmations.  I began the practice of negative affirmations.  With phrases like,

“I wish I had never met you.”

“I need to get you OFF of me.” 

And most recently,

“You’re somebody else’s problem now”. 

Whenever I began to feel the sink of sadness begin to drag me to the hell of my own dark mind, I would invoke those, and other phrases.  These negative affirmations became my talismans against the feelings that kept me from moving.  They allowed me the freedom of expression that Vaguebooking never could.  They created in me the ability to breathe.  Not in, but out.  And this was important for me to understand, because, in the world of breathing, you learn quickly that your life is only as good as your next breath.  And if you spend your life holding one breath, that breath just might kill you, because you have to breathe out to breathe in the next breath, and the next, and the next.

You have to sacrifice that breath if you ever hope to have another.            

So in my mind, I did.

And shortly after that, I had me a day.  The kind where you wake up one way, and if you just keep breathing, it ends different than you thought it would.

You see, I woke up holding my breath.  Then sometime during that day, I sacrificed that breath for the promise of the next breath, and the next, and the next.  And the words in the picture at the top of this page were that day.  Poeted through.  With the promise that there could be more than just holding my breath, waiting for the next breath to come.

***

Somewhere on Facebook, maybe a little, but not in a way I think will be held against me, I posted these words, and Instagram posts, at the end of that day,

“Today, I wrote myself all the way through a sadness that has hung on me like grave clothes since last fall. These are the trilogy of Instagram posts that were the path for those feelings to find their way out…”

days 3 views PNG

***

There is no snappy conclusion to this post.  One that ties up all the loose ends of all the thoughts I’ve just unloaded on you who read this.  It’s like life, I guess.  It’s just a series of breaths that keep you going along the way to more life, and the next breath, and the next, and the next.  And now that I’ve finally let go of that one breath I’ve held for so long, sacrificed it for the change to come, I know I’m still breathing. 

And that’s living.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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Ray Bradbury, Albert Camus, and Me

shadow lines

I seriously just had the most amazing experience.

Reading.

First time I can ever remember a story becoming alive to me from the printed page.  Full of colors, and smells, and stars. 

Then, it merged into another story I had read, elsewhere.  Full of heat, and death, and regret. 

And the two stories became what I felt I’ve been living since I don’t know when.

That’s as deep as I’ve been in a while.

And I swear I have smoked no peyote.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

I Dreamed

dream

I took a nap. 

I dreamed. 

Something good happened. 

I woke up. 

I wasn’t there.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Green Grass

Green Grass png

Silence,

the green grass upon which

every dream of summer rests,

to wither,

lost for seasons,

burnt,

then cold,

unremembered,

until awakening in the

nightmares of another spring.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Echoes

The Gift of Universe Song

the-gift-of-universe-song

Give no love to the poet. 

This frail,

flaming human,

is not the gift of

universe song,

sent to rain life down on

all who thirst. 

Nor the giver,

that he might interpret. 

Flawed,

the object of the

world’s affection,

nothing more than a

splintered leaking bucket in

the rain-eternal. 

Well-placed in

time and space

to hold for a moment,

that which all

who thirst,

find. 

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

November Is No More

today pic

November is no more.

The frenzy.  The confusion.  The push to the finish.

(and that’s just when you’re sleeping)

Every day a panic where there need be none, all because of a looming, self-imposed midnight deadline that causes content anxiety in the most honored of bloggers.  And gives all wannabe bloggers the only reason they need to disengage from all social media until after the New Year.

So before I go off into blogging witness protection for the next month, here’s a little recap of the November that was.

NaBloPoMo 2016.

 

Where most of my good ideas came from…

urban-lumberjack

 

Where most of my bad ideas came from…

bed

 

My most favorite post…

There Must Be Something More

more

 

Your most favorite post…

Shitheap

 

img_1482

 

The reason I quit every year…

typewriter-bleed

 

The reason I don’t…

cheer-peppers

 

Thank you to the Cheer Peppers, and thank you to their creator, Ra Avis…

ra-avis

 

And as much as it pains me to say this here and now…

I’ll see all of you here again, next year.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Night Sky

night-sky

I walk in shadows now, most of the time.  I once marked my days in the hours between memories made.  Now I mark my days in the memories I am missing, in my isolation.

I am learning to appreciate the truth of sunshine again, after the lies of fluorescent light, in the place where the moon and stars used to hang, in the dark.  I miss the moon and stars.  I miss the dark.

I live in a cave now, thirty feet high, with the lights turned off, to remind me of what I thought I would not miss.  It is not the same.  But I tell myself that, when I look up at just the right angle, there is still a night sky above me.  And a moon and stars, made of iron.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Muth Labben

ben muth labben

Today is for counting my wasted yesterdays
Each one neatly lined up
row on dusty row

Every year the same

Today is for remembering your unborn tomorrows
And the time I sit
because walking is too slow

There is no blame

Today is for pretending to make sense of the past
From a life ended
with nothing to show

When I speak your name

Today is for thinking that memories last
But all they do is fade
until they go

Like every unfinished song to be sung
About the death of a son

Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday

Through a Cell Phone Darkly

nano THROUGH A CELL PHONE DARKLY
This week’s wordless post comes with more actual words either of its two predecessors.

The title, “Through a Cell Phone Darkly”, comes from two sources.  A passage from the bible (1 Corinthians 13:12), and a story by author Philip K. Dick (“A Scanner Darkly”).  The main idea is that, as we wander through this world… this life… we are limited by the insufficiencies of our human condition to see things “as they really exist”.

These limitations can be understood, in a modern context, in the advent of cell phone photography.  The beauty of cell phone photography, and with it the artistic enhancements of platforms such as Instagram, is that… though hugely limited… these images show, in their limitations, a limitlessness of perspective and vision.  And as with any creative medium, the only limit to the artist’s vision is the artist himself.

So with that, here is this week’s 8 Megapixel Art, “Through a Cell Phone Darkly”.

 

“Alameda Street”
nano ALAMEDA STREET

 

“5600 W. Century: REDUX
nano 5600 W CENTURY REDUX

 

“When Life Becomes a Blur”
nano WHEN LIFE BECOMES A BLUR

 

“Occupied”
nano OCCUPIED

 

“Red Light Green Light”nano RED LIGHT GREEN LIGHT

 

© Copyright 2015 Bill Friday

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