Who is the EmotionalOrphan? Here is the biograph:
I am not a hero, possess no fortune, haven’t changed the course of mankind in any way.
I am unaware of any whose life has been permanently altered by knowing me, and for the most part I know nothing about their lives today.
On the other hand, I am no serial killer, thief, dictator , malingerer, or miscreant. I am not in jail or institution. Some were sure I would be. I am not dead. Bets were surely placed on how long Id last. Mine is a story the world could probably do without, but for me, it is one that must be told.
A wise man said, after being told of his impending death from a terminal illness, “I lived my life exactly the way I chose, and I intend on living my death the same way”. So I started some soul searching…how had I lived mine?
I found through my introspection that I had lived it in bits and pieces. Glimmers and glimpses. Equations with no sums. I felt as though I had been given only 55 minutes for each hour I had lived. Or as though I had only used that many. The others just ticked away.
I wonder if I watched it as a movie would it be as tragic as my excuses would have it to be, or could it be wrapped as a comedy, perhaps a comedy of errors — as absurd and ridiculous as Lucy and Ricky, the Honeymooners, or anything Hollywood could dream up. Would it be like I had been “Punked” , or another soap opera -this one called “Days of Our Minutiae” ?
I do believe though, it could never be as popular. I suspect, when compared to a steady fare of reality TV, my life has had very little TV worthy reality.
Poets, authors, writers and artists of all sorts stick to the notion that you should never show a work in progress. As common and accepted as this may be, and at the egotistical risk of giving myself one of these lofty titles, I have no choice but to show this work. Even after I am long gone, with or without my answers, this work may never be complete.
Magicians have a code which demands they never reveal the secrets of their magic. Those blessed with the gift of magic, not the gift of a sleight hand require no such code. Theirs is no trick, and they know no secrets which make their illusions real. They only know they are gifted. Their belief in the conversion of illusion to reality is so powerful that it actually can occur for them. “As a man thinketh”…and all that jazz.
Since I m not dextrous enough to be a prestidigitator, and since my belief in “magic” is not strong enough to make anything happen, the writing of this text is an exercise designed to put my belief in “magic”, or miracles to the test. Willingness combined with belief, and action gets results. In this case, miracles, or magic which can make a difference, or affect change in my life.
I really am not sure how to go about saying whatever it is that I think is so important. I have been accused of being long winded. However, I have collected some really entertaining tales, which I am certain would hold my attention if I was to hear them from someone else. More importantly, somewhere in these rambling, sometimes disjointed, remembrances of mine lies an answer for me. An explanation, or reason for my position in this world. Something to help me make sense of it all. I suppose the way to get to “it” is to simply tell the tales.
I must clarify upfront that, although I am in the throes of an “existential” crisis which has led me here to finally put pen to paper, I use the term crisis hesitantly. I consider myself a fairly spiritual, if not religious man. I do not question the existence of a God. I get the idea of a higher purpose, and have even devoted a portion of my life to defining what that purpose is for me. I’ve battled and beaten a number of my own demons, and skated death way too many times. I’m not so vain as to believe I could have done so without Divine Providence and Intervention. The issues I am wrestling with now are more related to the confusion I feel about the seemingly minimal long term impact these events have had. No matter my efforts, sincerity, willingness, or the growth I have attempted, exercised,or exhibited, ultimately my results tend to be the same. Circumstances come full circle, the fears and setbacks seem the same. My meaningful relationships usually have similar outcomes. Peace, popularity, property and prosperity tease me, then are gone away once more.
It has always been this way, and to lose the mustard seed of Faith I have manged to call on when needed, or when I couldn’t do it myself…would most certainly signal my demise.
I suppose these answers to all the “whys”, and a refill on the hope is the Holy Grail I seek from telling these tales. Maybe even you, the reader, will find some answers as well. Certainly my ego would love that. Even better though, I might get a little closer to fulfilling the elusive, aforementioned higher purpose. God knows that would be timely, so on with it.
Publishing Credits etc…
The Lexicon Of The Orphanage
An offprint-compendium from an emotional orphan.
A collection of poetry and art. M.odern confessional and memoir from an artist experienced in
confession and with a bad memory.
Art, Photography, The Broadsides Redux Project – Gallery
Culture Sandwich – Dali’s Old Men and accompanying video
Sick of”em – Dog Collar – Have You Seen This Girl ?
Guerilla Pamphlets #9 – Napalm and Sidewalk Shadows
PigeonBike Poetry – Truth
Red Fez – February 2011 – re-imagining heaven
Robert Frosts Banjo – March 2011 – Writers Talk Interview and Poem
Poem – Wolves At Bay
Heroin Love Songs – The Crack Of Dawn
Popshot Issue 5- The Childhood Issue
Little Episodes – All The King’s Horses – Volume III in the ‘Expression of Depression’ Anthology Series
PigeonBike Poetry – Trash and Crackers – Day One in 18 x 80
Unadorned Press Volume II – As Seen On T.V.
Guerilla Pamphlets #10 – An Unexplained Act…
Red Fez — May 2011 – Liver and Onions (part I)
The Good Men Project:
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