Messsy Monday – 5.16.11

On a rainy, dreary Sunday, the Smocked avengers commenced at Moe’s Southwestern Grill.

DEBUTANTE ALERT:

Introducing the newest smocker who’s ready and willing to talk smock, Blue, the Azul Smocker, hailing from Brooklyn, NY, working as a writing teacher in Harlem, NY, and breathing NEW YORK. Welcome Blue!

We read our pieces on offline, compliments of my medulla oblongata. Everyone had their interpretation on the subject matter. Erica wrote about the dichotomy of her popping social networking life, and her real life. Jeff and Blue respectively read their poems. Great discussion! Here was my piece, inspired by my experience that Jeff and I encountered on a line at a New York Night Club:

Here I was in a time, on a street, walking into something I’ve been out of. I hate to be vague, but the precipitation didn’t help either. We were on, but what were we on? A cacophony of people that were online – Googling on smartphones with googly eyes, texting loved one that secured entrée, only fueled the disdain for those that were on line.

I was on but now I was off, for Riva flowed out the race. “I left my ID” she said, a statement that I’ve been married to in the past. But the present is now, and here we were unwilling to buy at a 2,000% mark-up.

Enter Ross – we’ve been down this road – rather down this line before. I’ve consumed nearly 7 hours of my life trading life stories on scenarios like this. “I told Fran, we’re too old for this shit,” he said, showing his age.

He was on his Storm, online, telling those that were in that he was getting off. He trooped it, after forking $45, frustrated with the ills of city-life parallel parking. Before he said, “I’m out” I was in his personal life, grieving vicariously the loss of his domestic partner, and celebrating his one year anniversary of employment. This is his updated slice of life, surely to be updated, once again, on a line, down the line.

Five minutes was too precious for him, he took it to walk back to the parking garage. And as it elapsed we were still off line, never to be online again.

And then I threw up.

Next week we have a concept, in a phrase brought to us by Blue. “THERE IS JOY IN REPETITION” Interesting.

Until tomorrow.

Ralph, Numero Uno Mother Smocker

Gettin' Out Our Dreams

"Where ya been?". That's been the question I've heard most from most people I know lately. I've missed blog posts and meetings lately mainly due to one thing. Life. Moving is a hell of an adventure and adjusting too it takes up a lot of time. This begs the question of how to make time to do what you want to do and still do what you HAVE to do.

The main thing that one must do given the circumstances is to first decide what's most important to you. For my part, I had to make the decision that this group and this blog is something worthwhile enough to lose some sleep over. Staying up a little past my bedtime and thinking of a topic to discuss is worth it to me.

I write this particular addition for my fellow nine to fivers who also want to establish something outside of our usual means of obtaining our funds. It is completely possible to do this and have a regular job....for a while. Eventually, we must all make a choice about which one we want to do. Do we want to continue down the path of comfortability or do we want to chase our dreams? Each of us have to make that choice for ourselves. My fellow smockers and my closest friends inspire me to abandon my fear and chase mine. To be continued....

Thierry

Poetry In Motion: Spring Season And The Environmental Effect

As a poet, I find inspiration in everything that I see or feel, whether from the emotions and moods of my day or the enlightenment that my current environment provides.

Thinking and searching through a couple of past type written poems, I came to the realization that a few of them have been based on the climatic effect of my atmosphere, some personified feelings and others, reflected natural realism.

Spring happens to be my favorite season for its moderate temperature and bloom of life. Like a flower, the weather revamps back to new life in the form of a vegetated growth period that happens to respond to changes when nature calls. It’s very interesting, to me at least.

Considering that we are in the season, I thought that I would share a poem that was written a long time ago dedicated to the beautiful climate that we have been experiencing as of late:

"Springtime Bloom"

A flower grows in the month of April.

The roots grow like fruit in the month of March.

Your sweetest scent marches on to gravitate my senses like cupid's arrow from above.

You bloom like a tree.

You expand in freedom amongst the rest.

I love the way you stand stern with sensitivity in your stem.

You branch out like love amongst friends.

Your nectar tastes like honey.

You let me "bee" because you love me.

That's why I am the humming bird to your springtime bloom.

Continuously, I nip at you because I can't stop saying I love you...

over and over again.

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!

Messy Monday’s – Mother’s Day: The Bye Week

This Sunday, our hero’s didn’t meet due to the ever-popular holiday, Mother’s Day. However, I did want to take the time to thank one of my biggest inspirations as a writer – my mother.

She was never a writer – only for shopping lists, and taking meticulous notes about information, and self-improvement. However, she was a voracious reader – thus influencing me in the long term to be a voracious reader – in turn, making me a seamless fit to write.

And my Mom is an inspiration to me – for this is the first time I’ve spent Mother’s Day without her alive, and since her passing has been an endless source of inspiration when I have writer’s block. I just think of her and remember how upset she’d be if I didn’t live to my fullest potential. Therefore, I like keeping my pen kinetic.

In a sense, I’m sad that she’ll never see her son be a published, successful author. But at the same time, I know that if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be this far.

So I write this to my Mom – I love you Mom, if it wasn’t for you, there would be no Writer’s Smock. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be a writer in me. And of course, if it wasn’t you, there wouldn’t be a me.

And after that sentiment, we will be back to our regularly scheduled smock posts.

Until next time!

Ralph, Numero Uno Smocker.

A Lesson in Long Hand. A Modern Labor of Love.

It’s 2011, and here I am, typing in my 2011 version of Microsoft Word for Mac. Everything is easy – a computer suffices, and you unlock a window of word counts, automatic saving, and copy & pasting. But it wasn’t always like this. But before the advent of laptops, there were word processors, and before that typewriters. And of course, before that, we had the good old pen and paper.

I’ve decided to kick it old school for my manuscript. That’s right, pen and paper.

Granted, it’s much easier to write on a laptop nowadays- nearly all writers can type faster than they write. If your blessed as a speed-typist, you can stay on par with your creative sentences, and keep in line with your train of thought.

But there are disadvantages. Big ones.

For one, there’s the Internet – which is the biggest distraction of them all. Twitter, Facebook, and the ever-evolving landscape of the age of 24/7 news.

Then you got your constant email checking, and talking to your friends on instant messaging.

And to the Arcane.

I watched a video of an interview by Robert Caro, winner of multiple Pulizer Prizes. I was surprised by the contents of his desk at his 5th avenue office - he had one white legal pad, and the typewriter that he’s been using since he quit his job some 40 years ago.

I thought this would hurt my productivity, since I can get out content much faster on the computer, with the use of automation – auto spell, auto correct, etc.

But the advantages of writing down long hand are endless. Although slower, you can concentrate fully without any distractions. There may be a spike in production, but that remains to be seen. From now until August 1st (when I plan on finishing my manuscript) I’ll be writing on the paper. Of course I’ll be doing some transcribing to the computer, and re-writing on it, but the original drafts.

I’ll let you guys know how it goes!

Until next time.

Ralph, a smocker scared of the future.

Reading Is Fundamental

Within the past two weeks, I have been doing a lot of reading, more than usual. Fellow Smock member, Ralph, recommended a book, Waiter Rant by author, Steve Dublanica, whom was declared best seller at the time of its release. The book is highly entertaining and now deemed one of my favorites. I liked it so much; just two days ago I was speaking of the book to a restaurant host and recommended he check it out (I highly recommend you it pick up). After completion of the book yesterday, I came to the conclusion that READING IS FUNDAMENTAL in accordance to writing and other valuable aspects as well.

Brief summarization - Through trial and tribulations amongst former dream aspirations and less-interesting occupations, the author became a managerial waiter in NYC by which over the years, has become his bailiwick. He created a blog (www.waiterrant.blogspot.com) and shared stories of his experiences as a waiter by which is translated into the book above (specifically on the left). The sequel is located on the right hand side.

The author embarks on a journey on what he “truly” wants to do in his life (WRITE).

As I was reading, it had me thinking about my own life, so I naturally participated in self-reflection (which I do often). Although I don’t have any restaurant credentials in my personal life resume, I can relate and understand his struggles in some ways or the other. Reading the book vicariously through his eyes taught me many things, in writing and in life.

In relation to WRITING:

Once again, as we all know, reading is “definitely” fundamental to the art of writing. The imagination draws from others’ stories and provides new insight and information for your learning and entertainment pleasure. Basically, the bigger your imagination, your view on the world’s constructs become more visible to the human senses. As writers through relations and comprehension of the author’s fictional or nonfictional stories, we can generate our own piece of mind and use certain traits and styles to formulate our own. Also, in turn, utilize words that are used constantly by authors for your own expansion in literature.

In relation to LIFE:

It took the author many years to come into grips of his own fears, wants, necessities, and growth by which all equate into the ultimate life motivating intangible – HAPPINESS. So, I looked at it as an adventure of struggles as not just a waiter, but himself. Hence, you can learn a thing or two from a book and can apply it your own advancements.

By coming to these conclusive epiphanies, as a poet - he became a writer by jumpstarting a blog and myself through poetry. Writing starts with one-self, meaning self-education, not just school lessons alone. As an average person amongst many, he is no different from everybody, a person attempting make a happy living for himself.

Next step– read the sequel “Keep The Change”

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!

Messy Monday’s: Smocking in the Spring

Our 8th meeting has come and gone. Although were missing a smocker (Theirry smocks, where you at?!) we kept it moving on a beautiful 70 degree Sunday at Panera Bread.

This week’s theme concerns the subject matter invisible.

Jeff read a poem, where he describes himself as a small fry in a big-ass city, inspired by a recent outing in New York City.

Riva, ricocheted with poetry of her own, inspired when under the chair of a local salon. Jeff and I, at the end of the poem are scratching our heads on how can we write like Riva.

Here’s the short story I read about invisibility entitled, “The Birds & Bees.”

It came to me visibly, and vividly, from a trifling whore. Furthermore, it was her audacity, or rather mine that was in question; during our courtship no less. It wasn’t so much about the birds and the bees, but rather the birds and bees, and spiders omnipresent on her living room couch.

You see, before she came into my life, I stepped on anything in my sight – spiders, ants, flies, and the like. Even if they don’t go the extra mile, or extra inch of skin in my case, I was ready to stomp, splat, and swat to oblivion. But the whore changed it all. It was her version of the birds and the bees. PG-13, ironically enough.

And it started out – on her knees. A position we both knew all. too. well. She put her face directly under my Nikes, begging me to STOP.

It was her birds, it was her bees, and I was the tree trying to hurt them. When she’s not a whore, apparently she’s a dedicated animal rights activist, with her campaign slogan, “TREAT THE VISIBLE, INVISIBLE.”

“WHAT THE F*CK DID IT DO TO YOU?” she exclaimed. And after that, I put my foot down and said to myself, “True.”

And so here we are, me and her, and I representing a different kind of tree, with branches, extended in olives.

For a birthday, I got her a vacuum, but not the one that removes dust, dirt, and lint.
It’s the type that takes undomestics and imports them to undomestication. She was pleased with my thoughtfulness, and progress.

Then, she went back on her knees.


Next week’s theme is “Offline”

Until tomorrow.

Ralph, numero uno smocker