Tag Archives: poetry?

You Should Read More: FishingPoet: “West to Water”


Here, I am slow motion. Layers of break-neck life peeling away. I know it’s the wide-open expanse of frontier plainsong. Forever rolling and howling as the speedometer pushes 85 and The Grateful Dead wander their highway through Althea in Nassau. I am small here.

If you haven’t yet, you should head over to FishingPoet and read the rest. I usually try to stick to salty subjects here on FlatsWalker, but some stuff is simply so good you’ve got to make allowances. Besides, it certainly falls under the heading of “Spilled Ink”.

Smile When You Have Low Batteries



Prince EA – Can We Autocorrect Humanity? from Aztech Productions on Vimeo

 

We’re so consumed by our phones and social networks, that sometimes we forget to live.

“As soon as you see something, you already start to intellectualize it. As soon as you intellectualize something, it is no longer what you saw.”
— Shunryu Suzuki-roshi

That’s the thing about memory, and any devices (digital or not) that we use to help facilitate memory. Any angler has surely noticed this phenomenon while fighting a big fish. There is a part of your mind—the busy, book-keeping part—that immediately begins recounting the events to you as they happen, in preparation for the story you’ll eventually tell your friends and family (and anyone who seems even remotely interested in fishing).

But storytelling is, by it’s very nature, an editing process. It doesn’t take in the full experience, it cannot. It concerns itself with plot, with character arc and fantastic events. The rest of the experience is simply edited out, excised from the narrative (and, in some ways, from our memory). And worse, the more we tell that story the more it becomes that memory, gradually supplanting the actual experience in our mind. On the other hand, the small fish, the un-memorable catches and, most of all, the unproductive periods spent simply fishing, they are the purest experiences because they are simply lived.

That’s why fishing stories seem so much like fiction, they don’t correspond to what we know real life is like. It’s also why on some level we don’t trust the well-crafted social media image put forth by other anglers. We know what our daily lives are like, how can theirs’ be obviously so much better—well composed, with better colors, bigger fish, prettier girls and nicer food. And so we go out ourselves, armed with an array of media-capturing devices with the goal of competing in this new world of public privacy. We publish videos, post on #TBT, and update the Facebook™ feed. Or sadder still, post on our pathetic blogs (which frankly, no one will read if they don’t make it to a Facebook™ post).

Methinks it’s time to unplug.
Time to Unplug. Go fishing.

Inspiration for the day: Repurposed Bukowski


Dewar’s uses Bukowski’s So You Want to Be a Writer? in an ad. Atlhough it’s clearly shameless capitalism (the cheapness of which is preached against all through the poem), I don’t think we can seriously fault their appropriation in this case, especially being familiar with Bukowski’s personal history with adult beverages. If nothing else the video below will expose more people to a great piece of writing. Full poem enclosed below. Enjoy.

___________________

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So You Want to Be a Writer?
by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Bonefish Haiku


Summer clouds ripple
…..On the crystalline surface.
No bonefish below.

via CoconutsGrowHere

Day 14: Tarpon Haiku


tarpons plummet back to sea, moon chasing in vain

—–

From coconutsgrowhere; part of haiku-a-day. Loved this one.

Fishing Poet is Ruined… and we’re ever so glad.


Double haul lay it down now stripstripnowbumpbumpbumpbump everything halts my heart my breath my eyesight all hope for another day on this planet my mind empty but for the noise of adrenaline car battery and cables jumpstart arc between my ears suddenly airborne airborne airborne reeling off yards everything un-halted multiplied the silver exponent I’m not ruined but I’m damn close. More…

All I have to say is, “See? This is what I’ve been saying.”

Of course, I’m very happy more people don’t tarpon fish, because then I’d be jealous of or hate more people that catch fish when I don’t/can’t/just-plain-suck. Still, nice to read the first hand impression. Sort of like watching a rare troglodyte watch The Matrix for the first time. You can’t help but smile when they get mind_ _ _ _ ed that first time… you know, when Neo’s mouth grows shut and you’re like, “WTF!?!?! No one said anything about this!”

In case you’re wondering about the rant above—thinking: don’t be a hater, dude—check out my tarpon season here.

Florida Keys Chronicles: Haiku Ed.


Tarpon Season

          Rain from the south—
wind and the boat
…….dancing dockside, waiting.

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