what to use

I look into or, rather, towards the future. See the faint stirrings of activity that will actualize itself within the months. Prospects of potential projects—projects that are guaranteed to materialize, I just wonder how and anticipate their strength, the temperature they will exude. I’ve mentioned before, and again I will say, as a writer you take your memory’s truth and the expanse of your imagination—then in remembrance of your collected past and imaginings, you re-cognize the story you wish to tell, share, poeticize, immortalize and breathe life back into (and thus, showcase its importance and illumination). This is what excites me for my future works and what conceptualizes the process that ignites me to work. Right now, I feel a bit skiddish—ready to plunge into the art of authorship, but not sure what I will decide to use, who I will decide to use. What will inspire the scenes in which I create? Who will I let be the inspiration behind the language I use? Tonight as I walked home, I thought about how sometimes I have wanted to go on certain ventures, agreed to be involved in certain plans or grown excited about the prospect of certain social gathers (if you will) because I have wanted to document certain people in the environment, capture their mannerisms. I’ve felt bad about this—as if it were somehow superficial of me or even, bad intentioned. But tonight I realized my inaccuracy. I like to document people. I want to do more of it. I’ve always been intrigued by showing the rawness of humanity and thus preserving it. There is nothing superficial or ill-hearted about that. I suppose I have just been owning my intentions more than before. Sure this comes with age, you may say—and it does, but also awareness and acceptance. As another example, I use to internally flinch (if possible) or, rather, shy away from the chance of particular people reading my writing, seeing my art. It was ironic, since I openly publicized or unveiled it—but still I worried that someone could try and claim I was speaking directly to them or a passage had been a recount of a shared experience (this use to happen), but after having more relationships and stronger relationships I recognize how important it is to be upfront with the dimensions of your persona. Basically, if you don’t know it now, you’ll find out later. And also, maybe I just never looked at writing as an art form till more recently. The way in which I write, the topics on which I write are expressions—words are paint, and I’m trying to paint an image. I want my stories to be inspired by flashes of images I dream while awake—I want them to read like experimental films. No one shys away from a painter after one views the way they craft a portrait or depict a landscape. Writers should be given the same respect.

I haven’t even been back in New York a week and a swarm of things have happened and are likely to happen. Surprises springing up. Records on that later. Today I had to describe my “relationship” to my city of choice. Naturally, New York and it began with stating that that is exactly what I feel with Manhattan—that I am in a relationship with it (and it went on from there). Honestly, the more I see of this city the more I know of it, the more that I learn, the more I am committed to it and the more I grow to love it with each passing day.