Thoughts 01/28/2017

It’s come to my attention (rather recently, in fact) it is the popular opinion that I am considered by many to be a ‘dark-side’ writer. You might have figured out by now that I’m not one to let thoughts go lightly, so I’ve been allocating some headspace to this one. I’m a little surprised that I’m believed to be so shadowy. Most who meet me in person during my day-to-day comment on how cheerful, light, and funny I come across. Let’s delve into a public analysis, shall we?

It’s true that I don’t shy away from darkness. Why would I? Some of my most potent emotions and ideas are born in the realm of the unseen. They very word ‘dark’ implies a sense of mystery and the unknown—stuff that is difficult to make out. Existing solely under the bulb of an omnipresent illuminator strikes me as an incredibly boring way to live. Beauty is cached everywhere. This is true for the things we can’t (or don’t want to) look toward for inspiration.

Darkness is the uncharted. We who examine it are Old World explorers, tracing out the coastline of a foreign and foreboding across-the-sea continent. We stray far from home, and often wager much to do so—sometimes we may even lose our way. We press on, though, always seeking to uncover the ripe, aromatic bodies of the fresh and the new. These are invaluable commodities to us. They are the currency of raw experience, unfiltered and unabashed.

Writing about love, hope, and inspiration are all wonderful endeavors. In fact, we need those touchstones to which to return after our sojourns into the wild. We may spend years feeling out the black, but we make our homes under the rejuvenating glow of the sun, where we recharge our psyches as we prepare to set out again.

‘Going dark’ is about expansion—it’s about regularly embracing concepts and feelings that most people would rather avoid. I don’t believe there’s much to be learned from living in comfort and ease. All that is lit is already known; it has already been explored. Anguish and discomfort are poignant instructors from whom we learn to grow as humans. When we are content, our primary concerns generally center around remaining content. This is a kind of pleasant stagnation. We don’t feel the need to better ourselves, because we’re all right where we are. If that works for you, I think it’s marvelous. It doesn’t work for me. I am constantly driven to push beyond what I already am.

I write not just to communicate. I write to expand—to discover more about myself, the world, and my relation to the others caught within this deafening wind storm. Sometimes that means diving blindly into the night. And, sometimes it works.

10 thoughts on “Thoughts 01/28/2017”

  1. I feel that struggle, sorrow and dark humor creates some of the best works. If you can make the morbid both elegant and magnificent, you create a masterpiece (e.g. your Coffee poem). I feel the key is the execution of the writing and clever presentation of the subject matter ; as long as you balance the absurd, the shock and the sorrow with dignified elegance , it would not appear too wild (which may put off some readers) but can touch and provoke the heart of the audience in a way nothing else can.

    For example, I feel that the best baroque works are the largos and adagios, with their wistful and celestial beauty. Like a glowing lampshade, the mist, the twilight and the flicker of the night sky, in other words, more interesting than high noon and sterile ceiling lights.

    Also, I like the abstract and crumbled origami birds on the flightless birds poem.

    Lastly, I recommend you watch Gattaca 1997, it is an excellent retro futuristic film noir movie that I feel masterfully addresses the dark subjects of crime, struggle, eugenics and discrimination.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Interesting that you mention Gattaca, as it’s one of my favorite films to come out of the 90s. I have watched it many times. It is a deeply human portrayal of a dystopian, and not too far-flung vision of our future.

      I agree wholeheartedly with your assessment. This bit of writing (if I had to qualify it) is a kind of defense of dark writing. I aim to express that ‘darkness’ isn’t about taking on the morbid for the sake of gimmick or attention—I hope to lend some legitimacy to writing about the uncomfortable. Obviously, we don’t want to become stuck in the dark, looking only to it for our inspiration, but I find it equally worthy of attention as is any other subject.

      I thank you for your compliments, Brian—I thank you for your thoughtful comment. It’s impossible for me to reply to you in short form, and I never would.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m very glad you consider the movie one of your favorites, it’s incredible how well it holds up despite the vast changes in technology during the past 20 years– proof of how excellently they curated the aesthetics and weaved it into a relevant story.

        I really do enjoy reading these thought posts, its always fascinating to see the vision behind the poetry, the mind behind the scenes. I agree with you about not using the morbid for the sake of attention, too often, some artists and screenwriters have capitalized on the shock value with an almost mercenary attitude.

        However, unlike them, you value craft, depth and sincerity . Thus, when you explore darker subjects, you do so with skill and relevance.

        Liked by 1 person

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