Friday, May 11, 2018
Lesson 314 ~A Prescription For Crazy~
Hey Lady Sophia,
Can You Love Me Again, well if it works for “some” teachers… but honestly I have never pictured myself as a teacher, how my dog got so smart is beyond me and the only training guide I wanted was “Command Performance” when I was a kid, only we went with the rolled up newspaper guide. Anyway, the thing is if I couldn’t learn how to train my dog correctly, and I love him like pancakes, how will I ever learn to become a writer about things beyond me; so I read this.
“The bigger the issue, the smaller you write. Remember that. You don’t write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid’s burnt socks lying on the road. You pick the smallest manageable part of the big thing, and you work off the resonance.” ― from Richard Price
Yesterday, for example, I wrote “Pockets Full of Miracles” and while I could be the stereotypical African-American male… my “meat is murder” by the way. Instead, I promoted safe sex, e.g., condoms. When I talk about bed it shouldn’t be about that queen size I have waiting for me but more the droop of my eyelids, every single step becoming harder than the last. “Indiana Gone,” asked me why I say, I love my dog like pancakes. I don’t have to speak how he’s my world but the way I now protect my pancakes is how I protect my dog, and I couldn’t love him more if I poured the Bisquick to make him; The Walking Dead, I’m a fan.
Speaking of love, I’ve been wondering how to tell my mother I love her without going broke, a Kindle with Black Panther, some great black writers, with her sorority, Alabama, and the Black Panther symbols on it? How about a Black Panther Mother’s Day basket; how often do I talk about spending money on women and I have a sister too that has my nephew. Wasn’t I suppose to be talking about writing, but that’s just the thing, with such subjects one could spend forever and a day writing and never cover it, so you start small, my bank account.
If I wanted to write what is wrong with my country, I could do that in two words, Donald Trump, and then you expand on it, racism, Nazism, lies, hate and the world practically builds itself for better or worse. You want to write about crazy; you don’t start carving out your skull first. You start with one pill left lying in the bottle, the bullet in the gun, the creak of a wooden chair.
I didn’t mean to get so morbid, but we can take this as another lesson in writing can’t we Lady Sophia, A Prescription For Crazy.
I Will Have No Fear