Tag: psychology

Night-time Language #1

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I The Cleansing Walking down a corridor, the ticking of a pendulum on either side of me. There are doors – lots of them. Each one represents one of the stories I’m working on. I can walk through any of them right now and it will show me the world. I do not choose; a… Continue reading Night-time Language #1

Journal Sequence #17: Chaotic Wave [Papier-mâché Devil]

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I’m falling anyway. Back to the ground. Face the sky, clouds cover the sun [sin]. Black buildings morph into wobbly paint streaks. Obscure. Empty space. The reappearance of the weaver. Old scents, new memories. The feel of my brush against the canvas, my pen upon the page, steadily [frantically] creating a new reality before I… Continue reading Journal Sequence #17: Chaotic Wave [Papier-mâché Devil]

Creative Spirit Cannot Be Looked in the Eye

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I found a quote that rings so very true to me. “Many artists can only produce because they don’t know what they are producing: the moment they know, the creation is completely stopped. For then they begin to reflect; then they feel responsible and cannot play like the gods, unless they fulfil the psychological demand… Continue reading Creative Spirit Cannot Be Looked in the Eye

Journal Sequence #12: Poetic Animus [around here]

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The poetic animus appears in a dream, just out of reach. Images of elevators flash into my mind. I project them like ghosts onto the big screen. If you tell someone you’re going to do something, while subconsciously projecting animus upon them, it will almost certainly happen. “I’d kill to relieve the burden.” Ah, the… Continue reading Journal Sequence #12: Poetic Animus [around here]

Glue in the Head

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Stuck. Looking at the manuscript. Not in detail, just the mass of it flat on the table. 74 pages of Calibri Regular, unevenly spaced. Sheets of notes torn up and spliced in with sticky tape. Hand-written jots in the margins, sometimes spanning pages, the only indication of place given by asterisks and little numbers in… Continue reading Glue in the Head

Micro Fiction: Elbow

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You need the drugs, as it turns out. You need them to make the world shine, to show you it’s more than a three-dimensional dump. You need them so you understand – truly understand – that the fourth dimension is you, your mind. It’s what brings everything to life. It’s what makes a pedestrian crossing… Continue reading Micro Fiction: Elbow

If It Makes Sense, It’s Not the Whole Story

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The ego is not the whole self but the filter through which we see the world. It sometimes takes a bashing, but we need that ego; we need that semblance of consistency or we’d not be able to function. It’s all part of the framework we’ve built from human perception. I think the ego is… Continue reading If It Makes Sense, It’s Not the Whole Story

Journal Sequence #6: Intended Viewer [Stink is Gone]

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I found my soul today. [Back to Land by Wooden Shjips plays] Oh, when that fog clears. It’s just… The stink is gone. The stink is GONE. Long, sharp acrylic nails painted sapphire blue. Rings on fingers, bangles on wrists. Curling, twisting, dancing. Embodying the freedom. Forwards backwards outwards inwards. And I see the fire… Continue reading Journal Sequence #6: Intended Viewer [Stink is Gone]

Sense(making)

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“The chief enemy of creativity is good sense.” – Pablo Picasso. I mused on Twitter about having started three books, read half and stopped, even though they were good books. I got this response: “Because you get your fill of style from it and have a good time communicating with that writer and then you… Continue reading Sense(making)

Dreaming Motifs

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In my dreams, I find motifs from the day that follows just as frequently as those from the days that have passed. It keeps me remembering that time is not quite the straight line we want it to be. I use the word motif because to me it’s the theme, the inference, of dream events… Continue reading Dreaming Motifs