Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Artists B. Konig and Mark Reep, And Then Some Bad Prose
Konig's work has that graphic quality I love, along with darker themes and interpretations of fairy tales that incite the imagination. And, also, make me smile. Click on Gallery for more, as I couldn't really decide which one I wanted to showcase here.
Mark Reep posted a beautiful piece, Morning Prayer. I've come to realize it's the serenity I most love about his work.
Years ago, I was a good little Buddhist. For about two years, with a couple of years on either end where I was not so good. During those years, I practiced meditation, usually twice a day. Many times, you are advised to "empty your mind," which is really an extraordinarily difficult feat. A good way to do this is to focus on an image in your mind -- the lotus is often used. Or, if your eyes are open, stare at an indistinct spot on the wall, such as the place where the candle flame reflects in a little spot of gold. Focus on that, and if your mind should wander, bring it back, gently, to the lotus, to the flame. Over and over. Like physical exercise, the more you do it, the better you become.
I will, for the time being, not talk about my experience, but I will say this: that looking at Mark's work often produces that same quiet, gentle feeling. I've just now recognized this. So if, today, you are feeling chaotic or stressed, take a moment to look through his gallery, and maybe you'll find a minute's peace there as well.
I have not been writing little fic experiments here as, sometimes, I really like what I've written, and I have found that many places don't want reprints. I would assume having it on my blog would make something a reprint, so I'm refraining, and writing just as much as usual, trust me.
In fact... the tally stands this week (so far -- disaster could befall me at any minute!):
Ha! Two! And they arrived in my in-box within minutes of each other. I was excitedly texting my other half when I got the message about the second piece. So when will you see these? Keep an eye here over the next two weeks.
I am, of course, eyeing the list of submissions still currently out and thinking that I will now receive, oh, ten rejections within a minute of each other.
I do think that I am getting closer to... something. It seems revelations come, from time to time, and I'm learning. Over the last few years, I learned a lot about writing. And now, in the last six months, I am learning new things. And so I cannot complain. If I hadn't left behind that little corner of the world, I would not have learned these things. And now I am in this new fragment of the world, and after this, who knows? I only know the journey is barely beginning, and I'm very excited when I look ahead to many more years of writing.
And I leave you today on a humorous note. I've just finished a book which I will not review -- because it wouldn't be a review, it would be a skewering. One of the worst things I've picked up in years. It's by a very well-known author, and while I knew to expect some purple prose, she exceeded all my expectations. The prose is probably the least of her problems, to be honest, but we'll just talk about that for the moment. Or rather, this:
"Batter the door," she said. "The virgin door. Open it and I am yours forever."
And then, in the next few sentences, he proceeds to batter her door repeatedly -- and is anyone else picturing him dipping her ladyparts in actual batter, in preparation for deep-frying? -- then she, predictably, and without any mention of clitoral stimulation, arches up against him and, "as the tide crested, she thought she would truly die."
I have had some good sex in my time. Also some bad, but let's forget about that for the moment. Good sex. No matter how good, no matter how earth-shattering, I never actually thought I might "truly die." Not to mention, he had just punctured her "seal," and that had me rolling on the floor.
They then proceed to have sex about fourteen times a night from there on out, and her lover, apparently, likes to announce the moment of his orgasm with a growl. Never had a growler, I must be honest, and god knows, I've been around. I don't think I want to hear him growl at that moment. Now, maybe if it was a pirate "Arrrr!" That could be interesting.
"Arrrrr!" he said. "I like the way you touch me peg-leg. Touch it again. Arr! Arrrrr! ARRRRRR!" And then parrot was knocked off his shoulder.
Good day, do some weeding, ride a Vespa in a skirt, kiss a dog, write me an octopus poem.