Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Joby, Uninterrupted:Bittersweet Symphonies and Bohemian Rhapsodies(1989-2009)

This is my baby. The culmination of 20 years of blood, sweat, and tears. Of words found and lost; of love found and lost and found again; of lives lived and lost. Just shy of 80 poems depicting my ever-evolving worldview; my love of jazz and black history; celebrating the dichotomy and paradox we call life, in all its beauty and ugliness--in all its truth. I would even be so presumptuous as to call it my masterpiece. If I never wrote another book, and I hope that won't be true, I would be satisfied with this one.

I'm hoping as we say goodbye to 2009 and hello to 2010, that this book will be the start of something big, not least of which, my goal of becoming a full-time writer and not a slave to people who want to work me to death, yet pay me so little for busting my ass doing the best possible work that I'm capable of. While I hope to write more poetry, I also want to venture forth into writing screenplays, short stories, and maybe even a novel or two... Not to mention continuing this blog, which I realize, given the date of the last entry here, I've been rather lackadaisical in doing. But anyone who knows me, knows that I've not always been the most disciplined when it comes to this sort of thing. As always, I hope to be become better at this, as with other areas of my life.

In a society where seemingly anyone who draws breath can become a celebrity for doing virtually nothing, I at the very least want to put myself out there as trying to contribute something meaningful into the ether--something profound and creative and inspirational; in short, art, that will hopefully stand the test of time. An unobtainable goal? I don't know--those who we consider to be great artists, thinkers, etc., all started out with a dream and the desire to be something greater than themselves--many of them never getting to reap the benefits of their work before they passed on. I at least want to try; I at least want to become more prolific, like some of my favorite writers, both living and dead. To get to the point where I am able to write something, anything, every day, even if it's crap. To continue spilling my blood and guts on the page; to create characters that come alive in people's minds as they read my words; to hopefully inspire kids and adults alike to create and to dream bigger than themselves.

I'm not one for resolutions--they never seem to be kept anyway. But my goal for the new year is what I've just written and I hope whoever reads these words(and-- shameless plug--buys my book) will encourage and spur me on to continue putting words to paper--to speak truth into the wilderness; to show us ourselves; provide a different way of seeing, which is what great art does. If I may one last time, please consider starting your new year off by getting a copy of my book of poems. I can guarantee that you won't be sorry.

Happy New Year, everyone!