Nonowrimo 2013: My sessions are getting longer, which means I’m getting stronger. As I approach my second wind, I’m less and less a slogger

I will break 30K today. 29384 so far.

My sessions are getting longer, which means I’m getting stronger.

As I approach my second wind, I’m less and less a slogger.

apcpic

they’re a big hit, kid.

Weird how rhymes happen. Sorry about that. More of the interior novella yesterday and setting up the romance of one of the dual protagonists.

There is no loss for material and I can see my writing sessions naturally progressing from 1200-1500 words into the 1800-2000 range. That includes reviewing the previous day of writing and making corrections and adjustments, which usually leads to an increase.

 

 

 

Nanowrimo: I won’t get the two-week doldrums because I am writing for two

Nanowrimo 2013 Word count: 12377

So, about those doldrums, the two-week doldrums that the nanos warn against. I it’s not possible for me to get them. The reason is I’m writing for two.

One of the characters in my book is a writer, for anyone not catching on, I have to write his material too, because a part of this book is some of his writing, some prose, some poetry, one or two vignettes, and guess what else, a short novel. So yeah, this whole doldrums thing is outside the realm of possibility, because if I get tired of the main story, which is not even very likely, I can just switch over to this “other personality” and get busy with his material.

In the recent session I finally got into the fun stuff. It is a part of the story that I love the most, where the old school business guy kind of schools the young kids about business and the approach to making adjustments to meet the new situation in the country. There is more of this in the book, but I am glad I finally cracked that scenario.

And, guess what else. They eat Bison burgers.

running bison .gif

The Rending of the Veil

It’s not romantic.

Heading headlong into the teeth of this anticivilization at a time of apparent increasing rending of the veil.

It’s not like a mission, or a “calling” but all too often the feeling that one’s own mysticism and hope emerges to crush what is…

What is, is, after all.

So many peers, mentors and studies have packed away. They have “prepared”.

It’s the starkness of “alone” that draws the romance.

Again, we are stalwarts, we are the first immortals.

We do in fact have one another, we are not alone, physics won’t allow it, despite the delusion of “the collective” and the projection of “the one.”

There is the Universe in each cell; there is a sun alive in each snowflake at midnight.

Television, the local newspapers, lofting lazy, slow, turgid turd zeppelins at the twinkie addicted cabbage patch faces overwhelmed by the illusion of depth, awestruck by the spectacle.

Simultaneously, vast numbers divorce themselves from belief. They don’t necessarily know what’s real, but for certain they know what is -not-

Pulling, peeling, wrestling their barnacle selves from the ship, the battlestar, like small children discovering themselves again; rediscovering lost recesses long since thrashed, beaten and bruised by Public School; conformity, ostracization; Church; Television; Drugs.

The Pineal hood winked shut, blinks for the first time since vaccination; Fluoridation. Calcification reverses, it’s the veil, it rends, the divide widens, it’s not personal, certainly not political, hence the new Police State.

what the pineal glad really looks like.

what is

Waking up is never good for those who rule the sleep.

You took a nap after your energy drink, your bag of chips and cheesewiz, of course you did… the long slow infestation of cancer needs a moment. Not even that coca-cola can help you now.

We do love you, be clear about that, just because we do not wait for you to love yourselves before we make our moves does not mean you are not loved. We call to you, you hear it, you don’t know what it is. You fell open, it landed there, you threw it out the moving window with your MacDonald’s garbage.

Another may come along, you never know… I suppose.

Karma falls like a Light Brigade as long stretches of decompression integrate with post-deconstruction.

Deconstruct the language; subtract the inane politics and conjecture.

Nuggets of decompression filter their way down through the compost-peat culture…

Form the first sentence of your -LIFE-

I faced the hill and made my claim, my declaration; my command.

-So here is the point: Be a net Gain-

Anticivilization defines wealth as the accumulation of currency with the least possible effort.

“Something for nothing!” is the call of the Oprah rich, from behind the screen; the bubble, pin pop-ready; the screen, the appliance, applied to the smooth brain couch grooves.

“Because I didn’t ask to be born!” is the response from the other end of the plug, from the couch, from the waiting room, from the living room. The smell of French fries waft universally.

Creates nothing; vacuous realms; nothing real.

Real value is the creation and production of the most possible, using the least possible resource.

Exponential returns.

The chair caners; the recyclers; the small farmers; the hunters; the gatherers; the fishermen; the weavers; the wheelwrights. Much using little, not little using much. Not stimulation over edification. Real capital instead; value instead; Honesty instead.

“You have to create something”

These five words can save your life.

“I have to create something”

The truth that rings your heart like the bell.

“I have to create something”

Here is your Mantra, winking hoods.

“I have to create something”

No money down

Eyes, ears, wits; experience accumulated for that sky of cold suns at night, for the soft place, for a cache of hot and clean.

A summer for a firepit, all the chamomile and nettle with morning dew for a dry sump.

And the hill to boot; to shoe; to ski; to gather; for sweets, for medicine for the alter, sans altar.

The deepest honed arrow can’t provide this. Create something.

They call: “Something for nothing!”

Our response: “Something FROM nothing!”

Hands; eyes; mete; analyze, diagnose prescribe and implement; detail; finish.

It is value exchange; it is not a sentence, a deal, a plea; a desperation.

We don’t walk away from this.

We gather wind.

Weave the cloak

Manifest the mist

And again, the gem, the gorgeous gem Superior where I buried my face

In the roots

Into the banks

Where I left my salt

Where I recognized home

Who she is

Where I am

My future of breath

To hold this magic

Volitional Living Consciousness

Never for granted

Only ever grateful

Grandfather plucked from his place, like a feather.

Grandson lands… and leaves, softly, for the Net Gain.

Net Gain: That’s the point. Leave more than you took, you have that magic you neo-cortex. Rise to meet the beasts.

We sing across the divide, like waning whales across a sea. We call, we sing, we spin and dive and splash, it is in slow motion.

It’s there, on their sonar.

It sounds vaguely familiar; they do not recognize the song, barely the voice.

Their heart fell out, they picked it up, embalmed it with religion; with hope; sold it.

They hear us sing, they can’t place the sound, it’s on the tips of their tongues.

Keyword Tool : Why dirty minds are easily controlled

I have a character for a graphic novel I am working on (not the same as the other, regular, non-picture novel). He is a colorful character and he, of course, as any aspiring popular trend, has a catch phrase. I am not going to reveal the catch phrase here, but I did tell a friend. And, she said it sounded like it could be interpreted as “dirty”. Well, it’s not dirty, but I told her the only way to keep people with dirty minds from hearing things dirty would be to not have speech. Otherwise, the flow of blood and the wave of screaming from the outbreak of mutilated eardrums would be more than most people could handle. I never worry about the sick shit going on in other people’s imagination. I have enough of my own, I guess.

this is a keyword tool from 1880

1880 keyword tool

facebook

facial hair

hair shirt

clown pants

It all comes back to the clowns and their pants.

house fire

fire hose

panty hose

clown pants

wood stain

fire wood

hot pants

clown pants, or

wood stain

stain remover

nice pants

clown pants

The human brain is a keyword generator, that’s what my mornings are like, that is why I always have a notepad handy, because you never know when an actual thought is going to sneak in there. That is the kind of rambley shit that runs through my mind when I wake up in the morning. Yeah, that’s right, rambley. Sometimes when I need a word I make one up. This is one of my most popular blog posts and I haven’t even published it yet, such a keyword tool.

Bed stand

note pad

night shirt

clown pants

Seo later.

 I am doing a blog post per day all month, hopefully. Inspired by NaBloPoMo. This will be a good motivation for me to format some more ebooks. This is post #13

 

No quarter for my thoughts

It has been a long day and I am far too exhausted to write,

To cut and paste an old essay would be lazy, disingenuous and contrite

So before I snuff out this dim wick, I’ll muster a limerick, and lean on my quickness of wit.

Ok, it doesn’t totally rhyme.. sorry. Look. It has been a long day and I’m far too…. never mind, you get it.

I am doing a blog post per day all month… hopefully.  Inspired by NaBloPoMo. This is post #11

 

bkg.png

no quarter for my thoughts clownpants.

Winter 2012: 6 years in the making

The top of Big Powderhorn Mountain

–  there is a sun alive in each snowflake at midnight  –

The Frozen North is a prose and poetry blog I started in Winter of 2006. It is the beginning of this journey that I am on. I am at the end of the beginning of the end of an internal process that began at the same time I started the Frozen North blog. Lately that blog, that I have barely touched since I stopped using it Dec. 26, 2006 has been getting followers. So today I went back to it and updated some links, and invited the subscribers to that blog to come see me here. If you are one of those people,  Hi.

The photo above is the top of the hill where I live. It’s called Big Powderhorn Mountain, it is in Michigan. It is the opposite side of the hill I live on now. At the time of this photo, I lived down the side of the hill you are looking at. A couple of months after I took this picture, I moved up the other side of it. Which is what I focused on during my daily exercises at that time, moving to the other side of the hill. My exercises are now focused on other endeavors. If you want to see what they are, well, then just keep following this blog

Winter 2012 is another focus year. The beginning of a new journey.If there is one thing I would say to mark this occasion, it is that for sure, without question, love overcomes evil.

I finally sent out my chapter excerpt btw, so if you want one email subscribe and you’ve got it.

Love and light.

Rob

I am doing one post per day for the month of November, hopefully. Inspired by NaBloPoMo.

This is post number 8.