Sad Stories

I used to hate sad stories. I used to get upset, because unlike in life, where so much is out of our individual control, in a book, the author gets to dictate how things will go. It is all up to the author, and in my opinion, he should end all stories well. There should always be a lesson learned, there should always be some good twist despite all the dangers and trials. But literature should reflect life. And now I'm more interested than ever in a book where the lead character doesn't walk away learning anything. Where they might fail in the end, or come up just short of what they intended to accomplish. I want for this specifically because it is not glamorous, because it is honest. And maybe it would push me to do something more with my own life.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

If only a god could speak into our world...

 "I used to write like I had something to say." I will never stop writing lines such as these. Who I was will always be a fool. A man who knew less than he ought to. A man who could not know enough. I am thankful to always be learning more. But it makes stating anything definitively quite difficult. I will always revise my words, my thoughts. My best thought will change. Human words and reason are of limited value to me. We are far too conditional. We think of all things relative to ourselves. We are limited by experience, our background, our money, our language. There is nothing which does not limit us. If you were to travel extensively, see it all, know all cultures, all countries, all language. Well, then you'd be limited by your affluence. There is no ideal. There is no great perspective. If anything, the poor and the broken see more clearly. If only a god could speak into our world. If only He had something to say. We might have to listen to that. . . . His words mak
Read more

Something Held On To

Today I just have a little poem for you. Hopefully you can figure out what location it is about. Its a place pretty dear to my heart. Generations of children have stood watch here. run barefooted, or hid flags in shadows. It is a fair view from this plateau, the young still run, still chase, still find. Not often does light hide beauty. Isn't till nightfall that I find what is mine. Embers grow tired and songs are fleeting, Lights, as in chorus, show up on time. I always find myself here. Near the seldom used beach, and unpicked strawberry fields. Just 'neath the farmer's reach. They start to dimly pulse, a field full of flashing lights. Grander than superbowl kickoff, there, alone, these firefly sights. I wrote this poem about my favorite place at camp. And its funny, because so often, people are taking pictures the other way. The sunset there is gourgeous, and the colors are really amazing through the trees. But after most people have gone to bed, th
Read more

Maybe a little too much

Image
You can definitely have too much or too little of someone. Anyone reading this has experienced both. I'm starting this blog for quite a few reasons. Pretty excited to have a place to smear my thoughts. Something like really seedy raspberry jam onto some not-quite-toasty toast. I think it will be just right. And as place for me to just write. heh. Glad to have you here. I will do my best to make this something worth reading, at least when you are really bored. Or when you are far away from all other human contact. Or just when you miss me. Because, be honest, I know you are out there. And you will never have an overproportioNate amount of me. I guess to start, I should let you know where I am at and a little about what you should expect to find here. I am in the 2 2/3rds year of being married. It has been excellent. My wife is without a doubt the best part of me. We are living on a quiet little block of Ortonville, right near the school. I have a pinball machine in my living r
Read more