Soundtracked

Smart Went Crazy

"How did you start writing? Did someone urge you to write, or did it come naturally?"

Hey! What's good, playas?? Just poppin' in to say hi and quickly answer a few prompts before dinnertime in this here place. And I got a couple prompts I love (and would love to fuck with), so here we are.

I think about this randomly; usually at the most peculiar times. When I think about how I really started, my head immediately pushes me back a few years so I can fully encompass the people who gave me time to be an audience and offer their knowledge. Then I get a little sad because they're dead now, and I can't share with them what I've been able to accomplish since.

So technically, my first response would be that on a hot summer night in '93 (right after graduating high school and moving in with my dad and stepmom), I took a notebook my sis was no longer using and sat on the porch, hashing out things and thoughts and feelings I was unable to get across in speaking. The page became my audience; not people (though sis would often read the things I felt most proud of, and she was dope about it). The more I did it, the stronger I felt. I was becoming my own therapist in a way, learning how to understand myself by rereading my thoughts. And it worked for awhile, until it got down to me needing an actual therapist (more on that later though).

And it's fun to think that when I was 18, writing became my prevailing hobby of choice...but without the encouragement of my 9th and 10th grade English teachers, I wouldn't have had that seed planted and stuck and become organized enough to give a fuck about what I was doing. My 9th grade teacher, Mrs. Lindsey, in particular, was so friggin' cool. I could show her things and she could give me tips and we could pick each others' brains. When she taught a poetry unit, I was the only one excited for it. Because of her I actually made an effort after I graduated to come back and speak to one of her classes about poetry. It was really cool and really surreal.

It's easy to say it comes naturally, because you wouldn't do it if you didn't want to. But without someone believing in you and offering support, what else is there to keep you going? All you're doing (without that) is basically journaling to yourself in whatever type of medium you prefer. And that's great if that suits you, but for many of us we want more...feedback, reviews, or even just someone who says "I get you here". Natural wants and desires coexisting with your talent and someone(s) diggin' it are the backbone of most of our time spent writing, I imagine. And maybe I'm wrong, and maybe that's not how you feel, and that's ok...there are- and I'mma say it loud for the folks in the back- NO SET RULES FOR WRITING WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT, WHEN YOU WANT. Actually had this discussion with my psychiatrist today; she thinks all the great writers have a set time each day and they need to write x-amount of words or pages, or they won't be successful. Fuck that. I don't do that. Not saying you shouldn't if that works for you, but that's not how I operate. If you held a gun to my head and told me to write a poem, I'd shit myself and beg you to shoot me. On the flipside of that coin, I'm always trying to pay attention to things that might be inspiring, cuz you can find it in the weirdest places...and even if it only sparks a line or a hook, it goes into a notebook that I can work off of later (like, ya know, when the mood strikes). So, piss on your writer's block and don't hold yourself to unrealistic expectations. You'll just disappoint yourself and that's not good at all for your work.

Didn't mean to go on a rant about it, but, well, here we are. As a side note, thanks again to Emily for all the kickass work she's done this month and basically since she's been back? Do y'all love her like I've been hearing good things about her? Show her some love!!

"If you could only use music to describe yourself to someone, what song would it be and why? If you can, add the YouTube link so we can hear it too."

Y'all know this is a loaded question, right? Man, I applaud you good, kind souls who can distill your lives down to one fucking song. That's great! There should be a trophy for that, or an achievement that unlocks a $25 Applebees gift card for you, or some shit. I don't have time to sort through nearly 20k songs in my library and say "Yes! This is me!!". I hope you all knew this going in, and didn't try too hard to pigeonhole yourselves into something that maybe won't reflect you on the odd chance your life takes a misdirection.

And as much as I hate to say it, when I come across this question there is always one song that comes to mind. I was the smart kid who was expected to be a great adult doing many great adult things. Without going into detail, life did not quite go that way for a long time. Being labeled as "smart" when you're young doesn't necessarily mean you pick up on all the skills you need to be a competent grown-up. No need for me to shame anyone now about it, because what they didn't do can't be undone and there are too many people I could point fingers at that I could put a glove on all my fingers and still need more fingers for all the gloves I'd need. Y'all can figure it as "a blessing and a curse"; I've come to know it as a deathtrap.

My first trip to the psych ward coincided with this song and my fixation on this album as a whole...it was so good and fresh and new and different than anything I'd heard. It struck a solid chord with me. And all I could think was "Smart Went Crazy" while I was staring at platinum white walls while trying to get out and resume the same life that got me there in the first place. I was the smart kid who lost his fucking mind...no boundaries, no self-respect or self-control, nothing. Just a job I hated and a boss that assumed I was basically her and a girlfriend who couldn't divorce her husband but loved me and loved fighting with me more.

It's hard being stuck as the successful failure.

Anyway, that all landed me in the hospital because I was "not myself". In short, I wanted out...I wanted to die and just leave everything behind and be forgotten about. But everyone else I was connected with felt differently, and so I had to push on and live the same life...now with the designation of "he lost his mind". Powerful words coming from the inside of what they used to call an asylum. I'm not gonna go into any bit more detail because I'll be dealing with it next month in an online writing class I'm taking (more on that in a bit).

I'm not gonna say much more about this song that I haven't said already now or in previous entries when I've used it. If I'm not mistaken, it's on the silent list in my head of songs I've retired from using in blog entries...but I guess since I don't blog that much anymore, it's ok to pull it out once in awhile. I guess all I can say is it kept me sane when I was insane. It soundtracked my narrative. Felt good to come home and pump it through my speakers, thinking maybe I wasn't so fucked up anymore.

"Smart Went Crazy"   -Atmosphere

"'You're headed for self destruction'; been there, did that.
Kicked back with the wrong angel to fuck with."

Yo, where do they give you trophy for not being a fucked-up fuckup anymore? I've moved a couple times. I traveled a bit since I became like a published author and shit. People buy my t-shirts and other merch. Am I like a legit adult again? I've got an ID. Poetry and Blogging Quills, along with $2+ gets me a cup of coffee around here. Where's my boo-hoo participation trophy??

HEY!! The "30-Day Bloggers Group"  is still looking for donations for the massive February fundraiser, my friends!

Also yo...my publisher is looking for people to take a class on publishing memoirs. If you're interested, get at me. It's a 4-week online class for $200. I'll be there, providing levity and purging my soul. Not that a memoir is on my list of Things To Do, but hey if the noggin nudges, I move.

I thought I had more to add, but I got sidetracked by Twitter again and Facebook minutiae and that's fine and all but I really need to decide now if I wanna eat, poop, or nap...these are the things I worry about while you're out in the world being a well-adjusted individual, ya prickfaces. Peace, I don't know where I'm goin' but I'll end up in your arms, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!

"We Will Still Need A Song"   -Hawksley Workman

"The poets let a generation down!
And modern music could be a healing sound...
it's the only way."