Posts tagged ‘Failure’

July 14, 2022

Publication in the Age of Negation pt.1

https://artillerymag.com/humility-and-humiliation/?fbclid=IwAR0Y7vJ8DEEE7Yxd7ucuRqFgldehLsoJsLaFw5OwLmK2YZoYaNWzRIZwZ6w

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March 4, 2022

A Challenging Spiritual Exercise…

February 12, 2019

Beauty and Happiness

Beauty depresses me,
knowing that it’s temporary.
Positivity requires too much energy.
And even if I were happy,
I wouldn’t admit it,
for that would be an insult
to those who are not,
and those who pretend to be.

October 24, 2018

Emptyscapes: Art Show

Lora Schlesinger Gallery
Bergamot Station, B5b: 2525 S.Michigan Ave, Santa Monica CA 90404

November 3 – December 15  2018
Opening reception: Nov 3rd 4-6pm

 

 

February 18, 2017

An Unoriginal Observation

wing

By the time one has learned how to live,
there isn’t much time left to profit
from what one has learned.

And it’s too late to still be learning,
too late to still be burning,
to come to terms with the past
by learning the easiest things last.

February 12, 2017

Suck Sorrow

suck-sorrow_new

Yes, my dear, we have each other:
that’s what worries me.
I wouldn’t focus on your flaws
if you did not call yourself mine;
you are the living embodiment of my failure,
another symptom of my decline.
But, darling, please don’t let our love ever die.
Because if it does, I’ll be shattered
by all the time I’ve wasted
keeping it alive.

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October 22, 2016

Counterfeit Immortality

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Gissing, Orwell, Kafka, Lawrence: What do these distinguished authors have in common? They all produced a lot of great work, certainly, but surely their most important unifying quality is that they were all younger than me when they died. I have now lived longer than a lot of people who achieved a lot more than I am ever going to achieve. Taking into consideration how much time I have already wasted and how much time realistically remains – and how much of that remaining time is likely to be wasted – then that situation is unlikely to change. Even if I devoted every available remaining hour in unswerving devotion to this unrequired and rewardless task, it would still be impossible to ease the margin of defeat and offset the overwhelming backlog of lost time. It is no longer possible to measure my own lack of progress by that of other authors who started ‘late’. I have now surpassed them all. When ‘they’ talk about an author’s career taking off, and their ‘finally’ producing the work for which they are rightly revered, the author is always at least ten years younger than I am at time of said ‘take-off’. There are others who seemed old when I was young, who started to produce work at a sensible age and have continued to produce it; they have been old for a long time, whereas I have been young for a long time, because I haven’t started yet. I have spent twenty-five years preparing to start. And it’s not as if I haven’t spent all this time struggling with literary endeavor; it’s just that I haven’t finished anything. Well, that’s something: a point from which to recede.

July 21, 2016

Life’s Journey

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I seemed to have always been the same age.
Then I looked in the mirror and saw a tired
and devious old man gazing warily back at me.

An old man, alone in a room, masturbating over a memory,
fantasizing about women who have forgotten about me,
and brooding over deliberately missed opportunities.

A shadow of my former shadow
slowly becoming invisible, turning gray.
Unfortunately, nobody noticed
that I never went away.

May 28, 2016

The Solution

Dried Up

I recognize the ideal,
of what I’m ideally working towards,
but I’m incapable of realizing it.
So why not satisfy myself
with what I imagine
I’m capable of doing
rather than actually doing it?
That seems like a reasonable solution.

But isn’t that what I’ve been doing all along:
basking instead of striving;
recognizing what I’m capable of
and settling for less?
Which is actually a long process
of resigning oneself to failure:
basking in the glory of potential
and potential glory,
until potential is dead.

May 2, 2016

Inspired By True Events

Tortured

I waited a long time
to become a failure.
It took longer than I expected.
Was it worth the wait?
Frankly, no.
It was all in the anticipation.
But it was nice to have something
to look forward to.