I just had another idea.
[Digression:]
I am revisiting this blog site for the first time in about a year.
For nearly a year, I let it lie fallow.
I buried other seeds, other places.
Wrote, here or there, elsewhere, or not at all.
Depending on the day, the month, the up - or - down swing
What kind of mood I was in.
[Digression:]
I am attempting, now--
for the sake of my Potential Growth
as an aspiring writer or what-have-you
--to identify my own digressions.
What is a digression?
I hardly know myself. Perhaps that is the root of the problem.
Let's dig deeper, shall we?
Digression: Ah, yes. noun
1. the act of digressing. 2. a passage or section that deviates from the central theme in speech or writing
But, so far, all of these have been, in fact, digressions, as you can tell from the title of this blog post, which is, in fact:
"Letters to Ghosts."
And so, I am going to start again, digression / self-interruption - Free!
Ahem,
Letters to Ghosts.
My idea.
Over a year ago, I published a post about Philip Seymour Hoffman. It was not very long after he died, and probably sometime around when Robin Williams died as well. I can't remember exactly when that happened, because I still have not fully accepted the truth of that fact. Robin Williams is such an idol, an icon, a true Hero to me that I can scarcely begin to acknowledge that he is truly gone from this world. His is a Light that the world sorely misses.
But that, too, was a bit of a digression.
I wrote, not about Robin (because I could not face his passing at all at the time that it happened, even until now)...but rather about Philip Seymour-Hoffman (PSH). And, I had actually written the letter before he died.
I never mailed the letter to PSH. I wish I had. It is, if you ask me ;), a pretty nice letter. One I know I would be happy to receive, were our roles reversed. I doubt it would have been enough to stem or cur his descent into despair and drugs...but you never know.
...
I have been thinking lately about the Nature of Power.
What kind of Powers do I have? What kind of Powers do you? What kind of Power Could We Have, if we Let our Powers Combine?
I'm curious.
Because, you see, there are many different Kinds of Power. There are Magical Powers. That's mostly the kind I have.
There is also Political Power. Social Power. Physical Power / Might. Fire power/ ammunition.
I am not terribly interested in those kinds of power anymore.
Those appear, to me, to be the kind whats-his-face meant when he said
"Absolute Power, Corrupts, Absolutely!"
May have been Machiavelli. Or Arnold Schwarzenegger?
Or perhaps it was Oscar the Grouch. I'm sure my friend the Oracle, Google, could tell ya.
That lady/dude/thing knows EVERYTHING!
But that's neither here nor there.
Not really. Another digression, I fear.
Blast, Tinkle! You're at it again!
But I guess that's just how we pirate-sprite's think. And Tink.
That's how we Process Information. Verbally. Orally. Linguistically. Twistedly.
Along a curving, winding, zig-zagging, swaying, intergalactic kind of a path-track.
I know, it sounds like a load of codswallop, hogwash, balderdash and gobsmattering claptrap
But it is, in point of fact, quite true.
When have I ever lied to you?
This Honest Pixie has not the Power to Lie.
Not convincingly. Not about anything important.
Tis not a talent or skill I've cultivated.
I've never really needed it. I am Real, True, Upfront, Upright, Upstanding and
Never a Phony
Always Myself.
I try not to wear too many masks in public. I find them tiresome.
Too much effort to keep up. To hang on to.
It's much easier, once you embrace and give in to it, To Be You.
It's fun. It feels good. At least, some of the time.
At least, I think it feels a lot better than trying or pretending to be someone you're not.
Someone you don't particularly, truly and honestly, deeply desire to be.
For someone else's sake. For society's, your friends', your parents', your partners', your kids'.
That all seems like an awful lot of unnecessary work, if you ask me.
But you didn't. So I'll quit with the lecture and get back to the actual
SUBJECT AT HAND!
[ you see, I've digression-ed again! ]
Letters to Ghosts.
My idea.
So, I wrote that one letter to PSH. Because he's great. And I thought he should hear that.
But then, I published / sent it too late. Too little, too late. He never saw it. He never received (in this life) those words of appreciation and admiration. And that's too bad. And it served as a reminder, to me, that I need to remember to share those words and thoughts with my loved ones AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE! because you never know when it might have been your final chance.
But...my actual idea, that I set out here, originally, to express, was this:
I think I would like to compose a series of letters to dead people I wish to address.
Then, with some, I think I would like to attempt to Write Back, to myself.
Now, I recognize that this is a rather strange and eccentric idea.
It sounds very much like, well, talking to myself.
And, yes, that is more or less what it would be.
Giving in to the Many Voices in My Head...
[perhaps taking a draft of inspiration from the dude wearing the t-shirt on the MBTA commuter rail yesterday that said "I know the Voices aren't Real...but sometimes they have great ideas!"]
Allowing them the freedom to spill out onto the page.
But isn't that what a writer is supposed to do?
Serve as a vessel for Characters who Need their
Voices to be Heard
and their
Stories to be Told.
In other words, often
Characters are Ghosts.
And verse vice-a.
So, I think this is an excellent idea [if i do say so...of course i do! ;)]
I still want to hear back from PSH. Try to imagine or intuit what he might have wanted to say, had he read my letter, and wished to respond. And perhaps he will even wish to strike up a pen-pal correspondence! I mean, it's not so far-fetched! The movie I was writing to him about featured an unlikely friendship that sprung up through a pen-pal letter exchange [Mary and Max--seriously, see this film if you haven't already! I'm pretty sure it's still on Netflix! Claymation, beautiful, amazing, moving, true story!]
And then, who knows? Perhaps Robin and I will be letter-writing buddies too. And then maybe Paul Newman will join in the fun. I'm sure it would be neat to write to Bill Shakespeare. And what about Beethoven? Or John Lennon? The possibilities are truly endless.
So, this is my idea!
Any thoughts? Any takers?
Dares on where to start? ;)
[Digression:]
I am revisiting this blog site for the first time in about a year.
For nearly a year, I let it lie fallow.
I buried other seeds, other places.
Wrote, here or there, elsewhere, or not at all.
Depending on the day, the month, the up - or - down swing
What kind of mood I was in.
[Digression:]
I am attempting, now--
for the sake of my Potential Growth
as an aspiring writer or what-have-you
--to identify my own digressions.
What is a digression?
I hardly know myself. Perhaps that is the root of the problem.
Let's dig deeper, shall we?
Digression: Ah, yes. noun
1. the act of digressing. 2. a passage or section that deviates from the central theme in speech or writing
"Letters to Ghosts."
And so, I am going to start again, digression / self-interruption - Free!
Ahem,
Letters to Ghosts.
My idea.
Over a year ago, I published a post about Philip Seymour Hoffman. It was not very long after he died, and probably sometime around when Robin Williams died as well. I can't remember exactly when that happened, because I still have not fully accepted the truth of that fact. Robin Williams is such an idol, an icon, a true Hero to me that I can scarcely begin to acknowledge that he is truly gone from this world. His is a Light that the world sorely misses.
But that, too, was a bit of a digression.
I wrote, not about Robin (because I could not face his passing at all at the time that it happened, even until now)...but rather about Philip Seymour-Hoffman (PSH). And, I had actually written the letter before he died.
I never mailed the letter to PSH. I wish I had. It is, if you ask me ;), a pretty nice letter. One I know I would be happy to receive, were our roles reversed. I doubt it would have been enough to stem or cur his descent into despair and drugs...but you never know.
...
I have been thinking lately about the Nature of Power.
What kind of Powers do I have? What kind of Powers do you? What kind of Power Could We Have, if we Let our Powers Combine?
I'm curious.
Because, you see, there are many different Kinds of Power. There are Magical Powers. That's mostly the kind I have.
There is also Political Power. Social Power. Physical Power / Might. Fire power/ ammunition.
I am not terribly interested in those kinds of power anymore.
Those appear, to me, to be the kind whats-his-face meant when he said
"Absolute Power, Corrupts, Absolutely!"
May have been Machiavelli. Or Arnold Schwarzenegger?
Or perhaps it was Oscar the Grouch. I'm sure my friend the Oracle, Google, could tell ya.
That lady/dude/thing knows EVERYTHING!
But that's neither here nor there.
Not really. Another digression, I fear.
Blast, Tinkle! You're at it again!
But I guess that's just how we pirate-sprite's think. And Tink.
That's how we Process Information. Verbally. Orally. Linguistically. Twistedly.
Along a curving, winding, zig-zagging, swaying, intergalactic kind of a path-track.
I know, it sounds like a load of codswallop, hogwash, balderdash and gobsmattering claptrap
But it is, in point of fact, quite true.
When have I ever lied to you?
This Honest Pixie has not the Power to Lie.
Not convincingly. Not about anything important.
Tis not a talent or skill I've cultivated.
I've never really needed it. I am Real, True, Upfront, Upright, Upstanding and
Never a Phony
Always Myself.
I try not to wear too many masks in public. I find them tiresome.
Too much effort to keep up. To hang on to.
It's much easier, once you embrace and give in to it, To Be You.
It's fun. It feels good. At least, some of the time.
At least, I think it feels a lot better than trying or pretending to be someone you're not.
Someone you don't particularly, truly and honestly, deeply desire to be.
For someone else's sake. For society's, your friends', your parents', your partners', your kids'.
That all seems like an awful lot of unnecessary work, if you ask me.
But you didn't. So I'll quit with the lecture and get back to the actual
SUBJECT AT HAND!
[ you see, I've digression-ed again! ]
Letters to Ghosts.
My idea.
So, I wrote that one letter to PSH. Because he's great. And I thought he should hear that.
But then, I published / sent it too late. Too little, too late. He never saw it. He never received (in this life) those words of appreciation and admiration. And that's too bad. And it served as a reminder, to me, that I need to remember to share those words and thoughts with my loved ones AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE! because you never know when it might have been your final chance.
But...my actual idea, that I set out here, originally, to express, was this:
I think I would like to compose a series of letters to dead people I wish to address.
Then, with some, I think I would like to attempt to Write Back, to myself.
Now, I recognize that this is a rather strange and eccentric idea.
It sounds very much like, well, talking to myself.
And, yes, that is more or less what it would be.
Giving in to the Many Voices in My Head...
[perhaps taking a draft of inspiration from the dude wearing the t-shirt on the MBTA commuter rail yesterday that said "I know the Voices aren't Real...but sometimes they have great ideas!"]
Allowing them the freedom to spill out onto the page.
But isn't that what a writer is supposed to do?
Serve as a vessel for Characters who Need their
Voices to be Heard
and their
Stories to be Told.
In other words, often
Characters are Ghosts.
And verse vice-a.
So, I think this is an excellent idea [if i do say so...of course i do! ;)]
I still want to hear back from PSH. Try to imagine or intuit what he might have wanted to say, had he read my letter, and wished to respond. And perhaps he will even wish to strike up a pen-pal correspondence! I mean, it's not so far-fetched! The movie I was writing to him about featured an unlikely friendship that sprung up through a pen-pal letter exchange [Mary and Max--seriously, see this film if you haven't already! I'm pretty sure it's still on Netflix! Claymation, beautiful, amazing, moving, true story!]
And then, who knows? Perhaps Robin and I will be letter-writing buddies too. And then maybe Paul Newman will join in the fun. I'm sure it would be neat to write to Bill Shakespeare. And what about Beethoven? Or John Lennon? The possibilities are truly endless.
So, this is my idea!
Any thoughts? Any takers?
Dares on where to start? ;)
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