“Writing is like going to bed with a beautiful woman and afterwards she gets up, goes to her purse and gives me a handful of money.” – Charles Bukowsky
Very difficult to be put in the words of a woman. Writing is like going to bed with a handsome man and afterwards he gets up, goes to the bathroom and then hands in his bloody heart on a silver platter…(??!). Human thought and feeling is always a labyrinth.
Writing must be something of an Iron Tale, must be tough and sincere to the core of human perception of pain as valor. I remain the grumpy T-Rex who started writing out of pain, not necessarily because of a broken heart as it doesn’t break so easily after I have put around it some iron circles. Writing out of love is painless and herbivore*. As we sometimes taste blood, ours or others’. We live in a cage called life, yet we find shelter and surreptitious haven in the decorations of a masqueraded reality or, when it gets too dire, in our imaginary legendary land.
Methinks some words are so expensive that we are better left with them unspoken or write them with the ink of a Ghost…
There’s no such thing as perfect writing, just like there’s no such thing as perfect despair. —Haruki Murakami
To write with the truth of pain in your mouth is gruesome poetry…You’ll have to cut out your heart with every word and show it to the world, then hope it will heal. This is how the light gets in, also the dark. To acknowledge fear, defeat, despair and pretend serenity of a lesson learned while patching up the wounds is…Life (fragment from my Tyrannosaurus Writing)*.
Art by Natalie Shau.