Month: June 2008

Breaking in the Birkenstocks

My Birkenstocks arrived on Thursday. I had ordered Milano sandals online, and yesterday afternoon I decided to break them in. I decided to walk down to Watertown Square and back. These were my first pair of Birkenstocks ever. I had tried on a pair at a store recently, with those weird little nylon footie things that the shoe store requires you to wear when trying on shoes with no socks on. Doing a brief jaunt around the stack of shoes didn’t prepare me for the pain I would soon suffer late last night.
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines

I intend not to clutter this blog with relationship woes, other than now to say it has been a hard two weeks for me.

Before last week, I thought I had moved on. We were doing the friends thing, and everything was fine. I had even bought a book of poems, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda, after I heard a female friend say that reading Neruda made her weak in the knees. What a nice way to woo the next woman in my life, by reading her poetry, I thought. (I know, call me old-fashioned.) Continue reading

The revenge of the mysterious green plate monster

The following is an exercise in writing fiction that I did at a Grub Street workshop this month. That day was the first time I had written fiction in years, and to be honest, this is more like an embellished “based on a true story.” Actually, a lot of what I wrote that day was not really fiction. I felt rusty and out of practice. I did not read this out loud to the class, but I let my friend read it soon after and she loved it. Hopefully, it’s not only because it’s about her. Please comment if you wish.
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Opening the glass jar

I wish I could capture my thoughts.

A writer usually finds a way to do this effectively. There is always a pad of paper and a pen nearby. A notebook is always in the back pocket or in the glove compartment. Microsoft Word is always on standby. A budding writer has the tools, but they are only as good as his ability to capture his thoughts.

My thoughts are always fleeting. Today I am writing longhand in my journal. Writing longhand is tough because it forces you to pay attention to the thoughts in your head. You allow the thoughts to play out on your mind’s stage, and you watch this performance and interpret it before you know what it is exactly you are witnessing. You report on these events as you see them. But not only are you the reporter, you are the editor, you are the columnist, interpreting what is in your head and writing down what makes sense.

I’ve been writing a lot in my journal lately. In addition to a breakup of a relationship, I have grown a lot in the last year and face many challenges in the future. That is a lot to think about, and sometimes it comes at me all at once, and I can’t make heads or tails of it. Today I seem to be making progress in jotting these thoughts down. But then it was lunchtime, and I had to eat.

I made myself a sandwich and while eating, I continued thinking about my journal entry. What would be the next paragraph, what would come after that, etc. I want this journal entry to make sense, I want it to show that my head is not simply a glass jar filled with fireflies buzzing around inside. But the ideas kept buzzing by and within a couple of seconds, they were gone. I have a general idea where I want to go with it, but it would be great if I could capture my thoughts and pin them on the clothesline.

So that’s when it hit me. “I wish I could capture my thoughts.” What a great opening line to jump into a blog. I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a year or more now, and more so within the last month when the writing bug bit me. I had thought of another way to start it off, by quoting Pablo Neruda of all people, but I suppose my hesitation illustrated my uneasiness with that idea. Maybe it will work as a future post. Be on the lookout for it.

So here it is. My first blog post. I decided to call this blog “Dank Thoughts” on a whim, but it works for a number of reasons. First, “Dank” was one of many nicknames I have had. Second, although I actually didn’t care for that nickname, it seems to work here on a more literal level. These thoughts are coming from the recesses of my mind. People may be surprised by what I think. It is my hope, then, that I can capture them, not only to help me figure things out along the way, but also maybe to show that I’m just as human as anyone else.

OK, back to writing my journal entry.

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