from my book hipster

*
There is a place where dry, golden wheat crackles under the afternoon sun, and the muted fragrance of death, natural and sweet, abounds. A place where autumn soil is dry and caked but when you dig into it, with fingertips stubby from use, you find moisture, still, beneath the surface. Dark, rich and full of life.
When Joleen sucks the air in through her nostrils, so deep that she finds the space beneath the smog, she can freeze-frame this place, and keep it as hers, in the depths of an inner garden, where no one, not even It, with Its fears and doubts and trepidation, can tread.
It is not made for man with his trodding desires, it is a place solely bred for life-giving oxygen, and that is what she finds, that is what sustains her next step forward, when she breathes deep, deep, deep, puncturing the seams of sodden grey and into clean, clear white.

somehow, this whiny little gem had snuck around dark corners of the book shelf until last night, when i finished it for the first time.

if i could write one book like this one - a gritty, sympathetic, unashamed meander into a troubled mind - i could hang up my red hunting hat.

i had a previous, flippant impression that holden caulfield was merely an unjustified chip on an innocent world's shoulder; maybe that was before i'd begun to discover the cracks in my own once-shinier veneer.

good job, j.d.

getting it together

it's time to start focusing again. i burned myself out writing the pilot for strays, and have been over-indulging in pseudo-unnecessary chilltime. also, trying to get in a creative mode usually takes me all weekend after working in a corporate atmosphere, and then right when i feel those stirrings again, i come in on monday morning and have to brainstorm on things like how to make convenience store ampm's brand image more 'fun and irreverent' which throws me off all over again. i'm starting to question if i have the discipline necessary. but since depression is a side effect of unproductivity in my chosen passion, i have no choice but to get it together. this weekend's trip to lake arrowhead is my planned catalyst.