Very compelling Jonathan. I was studying at the London School of Economics in 1979. I could feel the anger and frustration when I was there. I attended a punk rock concert, I think The Clash. I know now that England, the once Great Empire was in its third decade of economic decline. The USA has begun the same decline. But your short reverie in the cow field was really touching. Good job.
Well, well, Wes, it seems we have a few things in common! Both in England at the same time and both have spent some time at the LSE, although to be truly honest, my time was only spent in the student bar (although we missed each other by a couple decades). Would have loved to see The Clash!
The US and the UK have been in a strange and intertwined dance for a long time, one leads, then the other, but neither seems to learn to from the stumbling left-footedness of their partner. They both need to sit the next dance out I reckon, but wallflowering isn't their thing it seems.
I also spent quality time at the student bar. I played on the school badminton team and after matches there was more time in pubs, so my time was well spent.
It's a challenge to write about the interconnectedness of life and how all of our "choices" and decisions effect society and each other and how power is portioned between people and how we as individuals can be both victims and perpetrators at the same time (especially in such short texts).
I suppose I have a yearning for a more considered and compassionate world which I'm trying to express through some of these pieces. Sometimes I think writing beautifully (attempting to) reaches others and sometimes writing about painful things reaches people.
But in the end I just don't know. So I'm really grateful for your reading and commenting on (and supporting) my writing. I genuinely appreciate it and find the motivation to write more considered and beautiful pieces through it.
You write beautifully. It’s a privilege to read this kind of powerful writing, Jonathan. I hope there’s no question of you ever being discouraged from it. It’s a rare gift.
I started writing The Crow partially as a real attempt to improve and hone my writing, and partially, I guess, to share ideas or insights through short (and hopefully interesting) word journeys (I know how pretentious that sounds, oh man!). Plus I'm falling more and more in love with the writing and trying to create something of value. Thanks for your help in this, I know we don't actually know each other and all that but I really am touched and appreciate your kindness in saying my writing is worth the time and effort, Patris. Thanks.
Jonathan, I invited you for doing a poetry thing on January 14th. This is where you would sign up, if you are interested. Added bonus, Patris will be there. https://lu.ma/event/manage/evt-irAxDKtBvLYrXmb
I saw that and I will sign up. I feel a little like an imposter, being that I'm not a poet (I try to write poetically), but I'd love to be involved in your excellent initiative Wes.
I'm shooting for fun and taking some close looks at some poetry in progress, so I have low expectations other than hanging out with some people and talkiing about this stuff. Wes
Time was, we could raise a little dream to distant heights, and find some space above the lights where it could grow and act like a promise to those we left below.
Never once did we believe that those who bet on us would ever pull the net on us, or that they'd ever leave.
Today a lot of us fall and no one sees.
There are no nets: we fall invisibly.
We crash to whatever ground meets us and wait silently but no crowd greets us to lend a hand, to provide some aid, until it dawns on us, bruised and numb, there is no help, that help will never come.
And when we rise again, if we ever do, a bit more crushed, a bit more broken, we think the bruises will be invisible, too and so the pain we end up living through remains unspoken;
I posted this piece earlier. The opening lines are missing but I think it also tries to capture the sort of truncation of possibilities for life that grew out of the’80s.
Very compelling Jonathan. I was studying at the London School of Economics in 1979. I could feel the anger and frustration when I was there. I attended a punk rock concert, I think The Clash. I know now that England, the once Great Empire was in its third decade of economic decline. The USA has begun the same decline. But your short reverie in the cow field was really touching. Good job.
Well, well, Wes, it seems we have a few things in common! Both in England at the same time and both have spent some time at the LSE, although to be truly honest, my time was only spent in the student bar (although we missed each other by a couple decades). Would have loved to see The Clash!
The US and the UK have been in a strange and intertwined dance for a long time, one leads, then the other, but neither seems to learn to from the stumbling left-footedness of their partner. They both need to sit the next dance out I reckon, but wallflowering isn't their thing it seems.
I also spent quality time at the student bar. I played on the school badminton team and after matches there was more time in pubs, so my time was well spent.
Unable to stop reading once I started. Compelling, painful insight.
Thank you so much Patris.
It's a challenge to write about the interconnectedness of life and how all of our "choices" and decisions effect society and each other and how power is portioned between people and how we as individuals can be both victims and perpetrators at the same time (especially in such short texts).
I suppose I have a yearning for a more considered and compassionate world which I'm trying to express through some of these pieces. Sometimes I think writing beautifully (attempting to) reaches others and sometimes writing about painful things reaches people.
But in the end I just don't know. So I'm really grateful for your reading and commenting on (and supporting) my writing. I genuinely appreciate it and find the motivation to write more considered and beautiful pieces through it.
You write beautifully. It’s a privilege to read this kind of powerful writing, Jonathan. I hope there’s no question of you ever being discouraged from it. It’s a rare gift.
I seriously hope I won't get discouraged.
I started writing The Crow partially as a real attempt to improve and hone my writing, and partially, I guess, to share ideas or insights through short (and hopefully interesting) word journeys (I know how pretentious that sounds, oh man!). Plus I'm falling more and more in love with the writing and trying to create something of value. Thanks for your help in this, I know we don't actually know each other and all that but I really am touched and appreciate your kindness in saying my writing is worth the time and effort, Patris. Thanks.
Jonathan, I invited you for doing a poetry thing on January 14th. This is where you would sign up, if you are interested. Added bonus, Patris will be there. https://lu.ma/event/manage/evt-irAxDKtBvLYrXmb
I saw that and I will sign up. I feel a little like an imposter, being that I'm not a poet (I try to write poetically), but I'd love to be involved in your excellent initiative Wes.
I'm shooting for fun and taking some close looks at some poetry in progress, so I have low expectations other than hanging out with some people and talkiing about this stuff. Wes
This is where we have been and this is where we are, most of us, and when we fall, we do so invisibly.
A beautiful comment in poetry form. I couldn’t agree more. Thanks Paul.
Time was, we could raise a little dream to distant heights, and find some space above the lights where it could grow and act like a promise to those we left below.
Never once did we believe that those who bet on us would ever pull the net on us, or that they'd ever leave.
Today a lot of us fall and no one sees.
There are no nets: we fall invisibly.
We crash to whatever ground meets us and wait silently but no crowd greets us to lend a hand, to provide some aid, until it dawns on us, bruised and numb, there is no help, that help will never come.
And when we rise again, if we ever do, a bit more crushed, a bit more broken, we think the bruises will be invisible, too and so the pain we end up living through remains unspoken;
"We came so close, we were at the brink"
That's a lot of us now — More than you think.
That was fantastic and quite brilliant. I love that!
I posted this piece earlier. The opening lines are missing but I think it also tries to capture the sort of truncation of possibilities for life that grew out of the’80s.
You captured that truncation perfectly. And the abandonment that so many have been subject to. Great writing Paul.