Definitely. Also, as a friend pointed out to me, with social media being what it is, the "bartender effect" has us all sharing our secrets with people we barely know. Although "secrets" may not be the right word anymore since we've all relinquished our right to privacy.
Right. So I wonder if that necessarily cheapens the whole process. There used to be a lot of trust involved, something was at risk, there was often a lot some taboo in place, and in the end, catharsis. No longer.
My girlfriend, in an odd way, feels safer around strangers with potent psychic material than with people she knows. Which is kind of hurtful for me. One person can never be enough for anyone.
But cartoonist Lynda Barry says talk therapy is too expensive. She says that writers workshop are the new talk therapy of the masses. There, people are forced to use craft to distance themselves from their trauma and exhaust their emotional reaction to it.
Over here talk therapy isn’t too expensive, it’s free. You just have to wait 18 weeks for an appointment, by which time you probably won’t even need the appointment because you’re already dead.
If that's not absurd, then I don't know what absurd means. I think our folks in charge here, my beloved Banana Republic, might out do yours. Pre Covid, a public hospital refused to service a pregnant woman, telling her that her date of birth wasn't due yet for atleast several weeks. The poor woman was pushed outside by security. ''Money doesn't talk, it swears'' Bob Dylan said. She had no other choice but to head to a bench on the side of the road, and give birth to her baby by herself.
I think gyms can be a new form of talk therapy too. Not really a gym goer much here, but my impression is that people in general help each other in weight rooms, in any way, both the physical and mental parts. Somehow everyone is equal, the novice guys or the bulky year in year out dudes. Atleast that's how good gyms operate.
I totally agree. Gyms have always been a proving ground for story ideas. And alternating exercise with writing a rough draft works well. Often I've discarded an idea, then months or years later a gym rat will ask me if I've written that story. If it's stuck in someone's mind that long, the story is worth tackling.
I remember this weird confession energy when I worked as a crisis line counselor. Nothing was more important the silently listening to the cries, pain and hurt. My ego had to take a back seat. It was a huge life lesson. I had to be a fucking rock.
April Danielson was Billy’s Mom— she was such light and her food— had a family history of their Scottish heritage. She also enjoyed meeting new people by eating at various places— the next thing you know, April was in the kitchen with them getting the recipe and sharing some of her cooking secrets with the kitchen, as well. I’m very privileged to be part of the Cedars family. They’re my heart.
How beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing some of her story with us. I wish I knew her and got to eat her magic food. Sending you and Billy and everyone there love
Her Irish Stew and Guinness Cupcakes with Bailey’s icing—- Whew. Soul healing. She was one of the hardest working people out there— adored her family and grandchildren. April, Billy and I—all Leo’s. Billy and I share the same birthday— so, we all understood each other and were stars with what we did, work wise. I’m so glad I was able to work in the kitchen with her— Billy and her Daughter. Cedars just has that magic that brings people together in a way I can’t explain. It’s the good magic, that’s for sure.
In the spirit of telling different "textures" of stories, would you consider sending a recipe? That kind of useful information is priceless in fiction. No pressure.
I love going to workshop and putting my trauma on full display. I haven't even gotten to the real good stuff yet. Priss and Peet are in for a real shit show.
I'm very interested in sonders stories thank you for continuing to talk more about them and how your own trauma affects your writing.
Thank you. One of my female coworkers did kill herself and we did bury her at sea. So the story was a combination of a bunch of different crazy things that I experienced in some fashion on the ship. I just change things to make the best possible story. I'm not married to the truth. I just want to bring the best possible experience to the reader so they get something out of it. The shipboard ghost stories I heard were the best.
I just finished an exceptionally short micro-fiction for you, Chuck. But I'm not going to share it on here, cause it's just for me and me alone. The title though, is, ORIGINALITY. Don DeLillo says never to talk about the work until you're completely done with it. Case in point.
Something I haven't thought about for a very long time: I grew up in the boonies, and when I was a kid, our phone was on a party line with the other two houses on our road. Which meant that occasionally you would pick up the phone to make a call, and instead of dial tone, you would hear your neighbor having a conversation.
By the time I was a teenager, the party line no longer existed, so it never really affected me much. But I can imagine that for an adult it would be unsettling to never know for sure if your phone conversations were private. And if someone was listening, it wasn't some anonymous stranger but was your next-door neighbor, which is arguably so much worse.
Ever seen one of those listening devices that looks like a satellite dish connected to a walkman? It was used in a Gene Hackman film but I cant recall the name.
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.
Thanks! The hardest part of writing to help people is people! But I think I'm getting used to the peaks and valleys of being a writer...it's way more valleys but those peaks are soooooo high.
This is what I did with the burden of a medical call I was on when I was with the fire department. A monster of human was using a baseball bat to mosh pitt society at every turn. His only reason to be mentioned is that each time we came up on a new victim they would share a picture of the weapon. And this baseball has a new custom rusted nails, a seat belt buckle, super glued glass shards.
Fascinated with Sonder Stories. Still working my way through the links in the other post and digesting all the possibilities, but very excited about this new door that has opened. Thanks.
Wonderful insights yet again. Thank you Sir.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SilyEYj6B6s
I’d say therapists are the new priests -- at least in regard to being privy to people’s secrets and such.
Definitely. Also, as a friend pointed out to me, with social media being what it is, the "bartender effect" has us all sharing our secrets with people we barely know. Although "secrets" may not be the right word anymore since we've all relinquished our right to privacy.
Online, people do seem to just nonchalantly admit to stuff that would ordinarily require a car battery and some cables to get out of them.
Right. So I wonder if that necessarily cheapens the whole process. There used to be a lot of trust involved, something was at risk, there was often a lot some taboo in place, and in the end, catharsis. No longer.
My girlfriend, in an odd way, feels safer around strangers with potent psychic material than with people she knows. Which is kind of hurtful for me. One person can never be enough for anyone.
And no Nick, she's not an OnlyFan.
I (heart) the bartender effect.
But cartoonist Lynda Barry says talk therapy is too expensive. She says that writers workshop are the new talk therapy of the masses. There, people are forced to use craft to distance themselves from their trauma and exhaust their emotional reaction to it.
Over here talk therapy isn’t too expensive, it’s free. You just have to wait 18 weeks for an appointment, by which time you probably won’t even need the appointment because you’re already dead.
If that's not absurd, then I don't know what absurd means. I think our folks in charge here, my beloved Banana Republic, might out do yours. Pre Covid, a public hospital refused to service a pregnant woman, telling her that her date of birth wasn't due yet for atleast several weeks. The poor woman was pushed outside by security. ''Money doesn't talk, it swears'' Bob Dylan said. She had no other choice but to head to a bench on the side of the road, and give birth to her baby by herself.
I think gyms can be a new form of talk therapy too. Not really a gym goer much here, but my impression is that people in general help each other in weight rooms, in any way, both the physical and mental parts. Somehow everyone is equal, the novice guys or the bulky year in year out dudes. Atleast that's how good gyms operate.
I totally agree. Gyms have always been a proving ground for story ideas. And alternating exercise with writing a rough draft works well. Often I've discarded an idea, then months or years later a gym rat will ask me if I've written that story. If it's stuck in someone's mind that long, the story is worth tackling.
I remember this weird confession energy when I worked as a crisis line counselor. Nothing was more important the silently listening to the cries, pain and hurt. My ego had to take a back seat. It was a huge life lesson. I had to be a fucking rock.
Poor people who knew the woman from Cedars, her recipes - and presence - probably kept a lot of people going.
And thank you for giving us this lesson, Chuck. It not only makes my writing better, but warms my life.
April Danielson was Billy’s Mom— she was such light and her food— had a family history of their Scottish heritage. She also enjoyed meeting new people by eating at various places— the next thing you know, April was in the kitchen with them getting the recipe and sharing some of her cooking secrets with the kitchen, as well. I’m very privileged to be part of the Cedars family. They’re my heart.
Thank you, Chuck for what you wrote. ♥️🌸
How beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing some of her story with us. I wish I knew her and got to eat her magic food. Sending you and Billy and everyone there love
Her Irish Stew and Guinness Cupcakes with Bailey’s icing—- Whew. Soul healing. She was one of the hardest working people out there— adored her family and grandchildren. April, Billy and I—all Leo’s. Billy and I share the same birthday— so, we all understood each other and were stars with what we did, work wise. I’m so glad I was able to work in the kitchen with her— Billy and her Daughter. Cedars just has that magic that brings people together in a way I can’t explain. It’s the good magic, that’s for sure.
That’s the kind of magic that never goes away.
In the spirit of telling different "textures" of stories, would you consider sending a recipe? That kind of useful information is priceless in fiction. No pressure.
One of April’s?
Yes, if possible. No pressure.
I love going to workshop and putting my trauma on full display. I haven't even gotten to the real good stuff yet. Priss and Peet are in for a real shit show.
I'm very interested in sonders stories thank you for continuing to talk more about them and how your own trauma affects your writing.
Dude, your dark room stuff on the ship was so raw. Very impressive.
Thank you. One of my female coworkers did kill herself and we did bury her at sea. So the story was a combination of a bunch of different crazy things that I experienced in some fashion on the ship. I just change things to make the best possible story. I'm not married to the truth. I just want to bring the best possible experience to the reader so they get something out of it. The shipboard ghost stories I heard were the best.
Another great tattoo:
"I'm not married to the truth."
I just finished an exceptionally short micro-fiction for you, Chuck. But I'm not going to share it on here, cause it's just for me and me alone. The title though, is, ORIGINALITY. Don DeLillo says never to talk about the work until you're completely done with it. Case in point.
Be still, my son. In time, in time.
Dad, dad, dad, dad, daddio
No pressure, dude. We'll be here when it's done.
I’ve always wondered what terrible things people hand over to the Google search bar. Things they would never dare ask aloud.
Something I haven't thought about for a very long time: I grew up in the boonies, and when I was a kid, our phone was on a party line with the other two houses on our road. Which meant that occasionally you would pick up the phone to make a call, and instead of dial tone, you would hear your neighbor having a conversation.
By the time I was a teenager, the party line no longer existed, so it never really affected me much. But I can imagine that for an adult it would be unsettling to never know for sure if your phone conversations were private. And if someone was listening, it wasn't some anonymous stranger but was your next-door neighbor, which is arguably so much worse.
And also Professor Chang Hsu teaches calculus and posts his lectures on Pornhub and OnlyFans. He has 1.9 million views. He also does God's work.
Ever seen one of those listening devices that looks like a satellite dish connected to a walkman? It was used in a Gene Hackman film but I cant recall the name.
The film was The Conversation
Yes. Thank you. Chucks film recommendation reminded me of that one. Just saw it for the first time a couple of years ago.
Isn't "Sonder" born out of the BOOK OF OBSCURE SORROWS" project?
I particularly liked the word, "Opia" out of that book. Sona & I were coincidentally planning on naming out child that if ever.
Yes. But several people made the connection before I saw where it came from.
Gotta love them NarCons'.
opia
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.
And DeLillo added a dream word in his last work THE SILENCE: "umbrella'd ambuscade"
And also...When Nasa's ground control have to listen to the astronauts burning alive and dying in space and they can do nothing to help them. It's beyond betrayal to turn off the sound of their screams and panic but it's brutal to witness...so you have to endure. https://astronomy.com/news/2023/01/apollo-1-tragedy-the-fatal-fire-and-its-aftermath#:~:text=On%20Jan.,the%20three%20astronauts%20trapped%20inside.&text=Astronauts%20Gus%20Grissom%20(left)%2C,right)%2C%20died%20on%20Jan.
Thanks! The hardest part of writing to help people is people! But I think I'm getting used to the peaks and valleys of being a writer...it's way more valleys but those peaks are soooooo high.
Yes. Hard to have one without the other.
What a helpful post. Thanks for this one.
This is what I did with the burden of a medical call I was on when I was with the fire department. A monster of human was using a baseball bat to mosh pitt society at every turn. His only reason to be mentioned is that each time we came up on a new victim they would share a picture of the weapon. And this baseball has a new custom rusted nails, a seat belt buckle, super glued glass shards.
You can read my piece here:
https://www.howblog.org/post/slugger-mark-goetsch
Fascinated with Sonder Stories. Still working my way through the links in the other post and digesting all the possibilities, but very excited about this new door that has opened. Thanks.