Saturday, November 24, 2012

Me.



I have dreamt of becoming a movie director since I was 7, I finished watching the first of the Lord of the Rings series in complete ‘aw’. I knew from that day on I wanted to be a storyteller. I often get told to follow music; I am in a band, I am told I have a great voice and that I know how to play guitar. Music isn’t my dream though; it was my way of coping with being 13. It’s my way of releasing stress like a journal or a punching bag; it’s not a job, it’s not a lifestyle, it’s a hobby. It’s a friendly teacher, nothing more, nothing less.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Waiting On Superman

"A hero is someone who understands
 the responsibility that comes with his freedom."
~Bob Dylan
A Voice Column
by Richard Corso

Grim news: more or less what we human beings need to remind ourselves that we live in a realistic world of realistic problems. Grim news that we may or may not toss behind our shoulders and keep moving; grim news that we may or may not stay up nights staring at a ceiling trying to understand why.
Whether it impacts us or not, it doesn’t change the fact that it happens; that it happened. It doesn’t change the fact that evil will always reincarnate and dwell in times, times of darkness for both our minds and our bodies.
Over the summer grim news hit us hard very close to home.
          Bullets, something that belongs in the action sequences of big blockbusters, not in the theaters we go to break the barriers of that action, of that comedy, of that sorrow, and the seats we sit in.
          For those who have forgotten, or possibly and luckily, dodged all news of the horror that took place on July 21st, at the midnight showing of the latest Batman film, a man by the name of James Holmes walked into an Aurora theater and started to shoot. The actions of this - at the time nameless - anarchist took the lives of 12 innocent people and injured 58.
We lost our friends; we lost our sons and daughters, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. That morning smile from the unknown passerby on a sidewalk; we lost our cure for hatred in a few brief seconds of haunting effects to the hands of a terrorist.
How do you sum this up into a story? How is it that someone can say there are things we can and things we cannot control?
It’s called real life. How do we find who to blame? “Oh, Mr. Holmes is mentally ill”; Of course he is, no one in any correct state of mind would commit the crimes that man committed that day that imagination and creativity was displayed on a screen.
Who do we turn to? How is it even possible to look up at the clouds after times of darkness and ask “Why, why did the lives of the innocent people have to be put in the hands of this anarchist?” Who do we turn to? Maybe the answer is in the screen that the victims chose to watch in the last glimpses of their life.
 The connection between the Batman film and the shootings is a great one. In the film, much like it’s predecessors and fellow ‘super hero’ flicks, the story is about the hero (Bruce Wayne) becoming a symbol of hope (Batman) to stop the work of the one who stands in the way of true justice (Bane), through the actions of death, greed, and the torture of innocent.
In the movies the hero arrives just in time to save the day; he is the one on the horse who must battle the great dragon to save the damsel in distress. Other days he takes the form of the troubled scientist who transforms into the green beast who must be tamed into doing the right thing. The billionaire, the photographer, the playboy, the outcast, they hide behind these masks, until they put on their real faces, the symbol of greatness.
However, there are both sides to this great story. Inspiration doesn’t always come in words of hope, or symbol of peace and justice. In terms of some, this inspiration is delivered through a mask of hatred and greed. Inspiration many seem to follow in steps to.
In every battle there are two sides, there is a battle of good and evil. There is the story of the Cherokee who tells his grandson the tale of the two wolves, (two sides of the battle). The story says that an old Cherokee told his grandson of a battle between two wolves inside each of us. One wolf, [the villain], the one who symbolizes hatred, death and the work of evil; and the other wolf, [the hero], the one who symbolizes courage, peace, love and hope. The tale continues to say that the grandson asked his grandfather which wolf wins. The old Cherokee tells his grandson the wolf that wins is simply the wolf we feed, the idea we choose to fight for.
The ideas that Holmes fed and fought for were the ideas of hatred, the ideas that people like Hitler and the KKK supported; people who could have been great and brilliant minds, and threw it all away.
Now, we shouldn’t care about this James Holmes, he’s just a name, but if the actions of this man, if the ideas alone can cause others to act with this religion of madness then the only way to win this battle is to be our own fictional superheroes.
In times like these we find ourselves looking up, looking back, looking down, or anywhere we can for signs of a friend, a leader, a living object to hold us. Someone to tell us to keep going; we look in all places for that person to inspire the brave and fearless. We seem to look at these movies and TV figures, these comic book and novel heroes in the journey of their personal struggles. We are amazed by them, whether real or imaginary, we are inspired by these men and women, these people who hold us up, just so we can get over to the other side. How do they do it? What makes a man jump into those flames? Why can’t I do that? Maybe we can.
When we were children we would go make a cape out of bed sheets or a towel. We were a cowboy; we were the knights in shining armor made of plastic and cardboard. That’s all it took to save the day, the will to want to. When did that all change? As 7 year old boys we knew that when Batman’s cape came off he was still an emblem of courage.
Did we wake up in hell someway along the way? Things were always going to get worse before they got better, it doesn’t take a bullet or bible to prove otherwise.
The people who oppose peace will come like the early calmness to a storm, unexpected thunder and crash. We have, and will be taken off guard when the guns are pointed, and the greed is pushed, and hatred is spilling off the sides of the earth we will notice that it doesn’t take waiting on superman to save us from ourselves, it takes the will to want to be a hero that will prove successful.
So what is the point of a hero, or better yet, what is the point of a fictional hero like the ones in stories? They aren’t real-why do we celebrate them and hope for their presence when all hell breaks loose? Easy, inspiration.
If there was a fight between Batman and Spiderman, Batman would win but Spiderman 2 has one of the greatest quotes in terms of what the hell is the use of a hero: “I believe there’s a hero in all of us, someone who keeps us honest, gives us strength. Everybody loves a hero, people cherish them, gather around to hear stories about the one who told them to hold on a little longer”.
And that is the way it has to be, that is the curse of love, peace, justice, hope; the villains of men and the villains of society will continue to do their jobs, as they are inspired to. And now it is time for a calling, as you wait for your friendly neighborhood Spiderman to come and save us from this life of hatred, remember that we are coming to the day where we have to step up and make the choice, the same choice that Holmes, firefighters, teachers, police officers etc.
We have to put on our capes, our shining armor. We have to become our own symbol, whoever that is, good guy or bad, we are here to change the world. Now fly.

 

 

 

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Seasoned Reunion

Snow falls
All is dead
Decorated walls
Post love pain in his head

Flowers bloom
His past is but a bore
Cleaning for room
Nature is but a whore

Summer heat
And phone calls sail
Hatred they have beat
Where’s the coffin and the nail

Fall leaves crumble
Shades of simple lying
Tempo has hit a fumble
As their beauty is found while dying

 

 

 

 

Thursday, August 23, 2012

A Man In Motion

A man sits.
He doesn’t seem to notice this world
He doesn’t seem to mind these cameras in the mirrors
Or seem to care about the people in his head
To him, he is the protagonist
His simple life is dead

A man walks.
He doesn’t seem to notice the ground moving beneath his feet
He doesn’t seem to mind the faces staring at him
Or seem to care about the masks they are wearing
To him, he is the villain
His state of mind is tearing

A man runs.
He doesn’t seem to notice the world moving fast
He doesn’t seem to mind the worries in his life
Or seem to care about the family that is his
To him, he is the fool
His ignorance is bliss 

A man sleeps.
He notices the shape of the story around him
He seems to mind the storybook ending he is missing
Or is it the love that he seems to take
To him, he is the story
His reality is what awakes

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Neverwhere.

                          (Listen to the song while reading for dramatic effect) 
   **Simple and never where I want to be**


Eyes on the stars and everything in between
Where is she I wonder? Where will she be seen?
I catch her like a storm, like whale on the shore,
Like a cold though my lungs, and her warmth fills my core.
She reminds me of leaves, red with autumn blood,
This girl I have caught keeps me trapped in this mud.
 

Eyes on the old worn notes
Past through so many times, wiped away the tears,
Washed away those fears.
Many times I wish myself dead, usually those days I find myself in bed,
With that similar ach in my head: reminding me of the days we left unwritten
Those days we never met.


Eyes on the drug like pictures,
So weathered with pain,
Laughter that always had, and always will, keep me sane.
I thank you one last time, but many more times will follow,
For the good times worth the pain,
Good times that get me through tomorrow.

Eyes on the memories and everywhere between

TO YOU!


                This is just a question for someone who used to read my blog: Hey! How are you? I don’t know if you still read my stuff anymore but I hope you still do, I read whatever you post, I am looking forward to seeing your book on display at some point. That sounded very kiss ass, and I did not mean for that to happen. How was your trip? How is work? How is life? Any new newspaper stuff? How is your Aunt? I don’t know if this is a really dumb idea or if this is a really good idea but if you would like you should email me, if you still remember my email. I know the whole “rule” but I figured we are allowed to break the rule every once and a while, I hope you agree, this doesn’t mean we have to come into each other’s life. I guess I was just wondering how you were doing.



Me