http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:Barnaby&section=today deviantART RSS for by:Barnaby en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Wed, 30 Dec 2009 12:51:35 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/27899081/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/27899081/ Thu, 22 Oct 2009 00:54:38 PDT [link]

I have only two weeks left of my membership here - so will take a little break when that is done, until I get my first pay cheque

Hope you are all well

as ever

follow @jensenwilder
[link]

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/26691071/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/26691071/ Wed, 19 Aug 2009 11:44:20 PDT
Will release on here soon, some poetry I shouldn't wonder.

Obviously my new passion is photography, so some of that will make its way to an account made for that direction.


as ever, I am blogging and tweeting.


[link]

@jensenwilder

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/23355129/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/23355129/ Mon, 23 Feb 2009 01:15:03 PST
most of all myself

i'm writing a lot more than i have been

warmest wishes to you all,


jensen

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/23227186/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/23227186/ Mon, 16 Feb 2009 01:48:01 PST
being lazy, but hopefully getting better

just a few minor hours of setbacks

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22983616/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22983616/ Tue, 03 Feb 2009 13:07:38 PST
I'm still very sad, but things are improving all the time.

I will get around to writing again soon.

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22820952/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22820952/ Mon, 26 Jan 2009 10:43:49 PST
now writing a collection to be entered into the Bridport Prize

and a longer collection for general publication

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22669304/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22669304/ Mon, 19 Jan 2009 09:13:33 PST
i'm upbeat and on a mission.

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22592058/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22592058/ Thu, 15 Jan 2009 08:36:13 PST
instead of being upset by such a realisation, i'm plumped up with the view that actually... really, honestly and truly... i've just relaxed.

and that's exactly what i needed.

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22429653/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/22429653/ Tue, 06 Jan 2009 08:16:08 PST


I was in the formative when I started out on this site as a plucky, angst-ridden little writer. Now look at me, I’ve lost none of those things, but have instead developed them. I’ve grown up with deviantArt.


I have had a combined total of 21,303 page views to my profiles (those I can remember the logins for) so far. My highest viewed piece?



Nova Smile with a total of 9,510 views - that is, curiously, far more than the profile that unleashed it has gotten (this far).
I’ve been involved with workshop groups from the highly public (long may it rest in peace)



to the secretive . I’ve even run my own group, but back then I had no money to buy subs for people - so it didn’t really take off.




This post is because I am nearing my 6,000th page view. It’s not really about page views. I keep jumping, perhaps I will always jump, because its more about the writing than my presence. I like the writing to speak for itself.


My point is simply that I must be on the right track - to have such a blessing of attention like this.


My point is that deviantArt is the only thing I can thank for this.



So….


For all the warm messages I get from total strangers around the world.
For all the comments saying that my pieces (past and present) have touched you in some way.
For those who continue to watch me here.
Just everyone really…


Thank you.




]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/21892549/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/21892549/ Tue, 09 Dec 2008 03:29:19 PST
There should be plenty of talking about poetry though, think you can handle it?

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/21076869/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/21076869/ Mon, 20 Oct 2008 09:53:11 PDT
Almost as near complete already, as I imagine they’ll ever be – I will post them and see what you think.


untitled (as yet)

Perfect for you



This does remind me that I should re-subscribe to dA. It’s such a pleasure browsing without these damned advertisements that having to put up with them now is draining me.

Both poems have a central theme of general dissatisfaction.

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/20072150/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/20072150/ Thu, 21 Aug 2008 05:15:22 PDT
]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/19590623/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/19590623/ Fri, 25 Jul 2008 12:55:29 PDT
I am back online...


I am writing and submitting - how novel a concept!



Regardless, i'm about if anyone wants a critic


Kind Regards,


Jensen a.k.a Barnaby

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/12410690/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/12410690/ Sun, 01 Apr 2007 03:12:19 PDT
I update it every now and again - so if you can, check it out from time-to-time

its basically the story of Jensen and his Lonesome Tribe, a bunch of no mark guys - each is on a quest to find meaning

it brings in elements of time travel to keep it fresh and alive, so as a reader you are never quite sure what is going to happen next, you don't have the safety net of prediction

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/12165171/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/12165171/ Tue, 13 Mar 2007 05:16:50 PDT
my birthday

i am older now ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/11947222/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/11947222/ Sat, 24 Feb 2007 12:04:39 PST
i'll have a new lit.entry for your consideration...

till then, i'll eat and drink and be merry and edit slowly

love it... i don't and everything needs someone.... ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/11907601/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/11907601/ Wed, 21 Feb 2007 11:57:47 PST
Well now...

let's see here,

who wants a few comments? i've time on my hands and i need it washing off!

i've a bottle of Southern Comfort to console me after losing all my money (don't ask the 'ohhhh, sooo tempting' question of how!)

spent my last £5 on a subscription of the next three months, i'm anyone's lit-bitch till May...

you wanna make a friend who'll be honest about your work? then chat to me

barnabyreader@hotmail.com

give it a go... ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/7755158/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/7755158/ Mon, 30 Jan 2006 19:15:25 PST Mood: super-sexed

I'm on new meds and am now back to writing after living on a beach. I live in England, imagine the fun that was for me.

So... well... i'm going to get on with that, the writing i mean.

barnabyreader@hotmail.com - if you want to talk in real-time (as if time were ever real enough).



P.[M.]S. - Requests are being taken for topics, so express a written request already... gimme some ideas.

]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/7743973/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/7743973/ Sun, 29 Jan 2006 17:18:35 PST
Mood: spellbound

Back when i kissed an earing

(why?

well if you'll remember, i was kissing an ear and i slipped)

i made myself a little promise... that i would never abandon anything quite so lovely as deviantArt.

well that was a promise and i intend to run with it..

So hello!

and who is still active?

who? ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/6774606/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/6774606/ Sat, 15 Oct 2005 12:19:48 PDT
see if this doesn't change, shouldn't, i have no work now.

how is everyone? ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/6032994/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/6032994/ Mon, 25 Jul 2005 18:24:52 PDT In the corner of the living room
And all I have

is a cup of water ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5827798/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5827798/ Sun, 03 Jul 2005 09:27:11 PDT
this is nothing big headed or pretentious!

i had a day at home and got bored - so i read academic, religious and scientific books

'splitting mica' is the resulting madness

its the merging of God, Mathematics, Geography, Space, Environment and Empires - it is an attempt to woo you away from the idea we can understand him - her - or it - or whatever the fuck it wants to be known as

the premise is 'knowing god's ways' which I devised as a task for myself - more to explain that we cannot know him for 'The world by wisdom knew not God' - therefore the very attempt to understand is what sets the boundaries up between us - us being humans and God



I found links through all the texts - for example

'iceberg' on the first line

links to 'pole to pole' on line four

'Greek geographers' on line three

links to 'Greece preserves the memory of itself in Rome' on line four


These links were then threaded together in a way that suited my purpose and so then all that was left was to write it up in an interesting way - more poetic - less logic

The links all link up to show that there is a structure behind this piece - it solidifies the message that someone with half a mind has constructed it. That device is merely the acknowledgement of myself (the poet) behind the piece more than anything.

Removing most of the logic was a device that allows the reader to get to a point of utter confusia, which will give them a chance to uncover the poems purpose; to unlock the mind, basically to give you all brain freeze enough to understand that understanding is not a necessary part of knowing something.

You can have a relationship to the poem right now, even if you disregard every words as pifft!




now moving on along the bookshelf

onto photography and fish next lets see what i get ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5658392/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5658392/ Wed, 15 Jun 2005 17:36:04 PDT DRAFT FOUR – SEX AND CYNTHIA GREY (and Abner Tackett)

====================

If you want to understand it a little think a mix between

Picasso's use of every relivant perspective
and
James Joyce's, "mock-epic", 'Ulysses'.

What i am attempting is to gain a wider picture - this is not just mindless work, i've put in too much time to let it be classed like that - i want to be doing something a bit more interesting (perhaps just to me) than the simple narrative of a day - i want to, like Joyce did, connect to a wider picture, but beyond that i want to do it using the past and the present as devices of understanding.

I'm organizing a network of internal interconnections within my piece to create a deeper level of context, below the surface context of the story itself - as will be clear when the narrative itself is clarified and re-possitioned.

I have been reading Foucault recently and context is something i am focused heavily upon. I want to develop a multilayered context prose piece where as many people as possible can access whatever level suits them, in order that i may increase the total number of happy readers.

Even if a person doesn't understand or respond to the underlying ideas it doesn't limit their enjoyment as i have set about attempting to develop the actual writing at as an organic, lyrical, and sensual experience in itself.

The names (though some will change depending upon what content stays in the final piece) are also another layer to the context within the piece - each name can be taken and researched to give extra explanation for events and their reactions within the piece. The actual process of research should be like code breaking opperation, this could not be done effectivly and quickly enough without the internet, that i fully understand. This piece is intended simply to be online.

All the links are currently displayed in a huge document-mapping image, different coloured lines have been drawn to start off the process of linking within the mind of the reader, should they choose to explore the themes and how they are linked up with events and characters. This image will hopfully be simplified and then used as the deviantion preview picture for the piece in its finished form.

This is for both myself and my readers.

It is an exercise in creating an experiment in cause and effect within a piece of writing.

In my piece i hope to remove the traditional short, blunt explaination for why a character chooses the action that he takes. I intend to expand it and place it in a subtle fashion. Kinda like a clue. Piece them together and you get a character.

Hopefully. Lets see if it works.

Comments are welcomed more on how the piece reads descriptively and imaginatively.

Comments on the theory are welcome too, i know i am being foolish trying this, but i think it is worth a shot and it has become a compulsion.




(i need your help chicos)

+++++++++++++++++++++



-=- [I] -=-


Gautama stole a poetry book from a general store. I saw him, I was 13 at the time and, while he did it, he told me to keep quiet. Which I did. Aeschylus tried to stop him but, ironically, he was stabbed in the neck with a bic biro. Now Gautama is in prison but can’t stop asking to be let out. He’s got a new philosophy, he says. He writes his name a thousand times in the exercise yard dirt. His cellmate, Bhik, calls it sand scrawl. Gautama calls it Vedic.


I went to visit once he told me something. “Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds.” I asked him, what could erase murder and he fell silent. At least I got a goodbye, before I got on with my life, forgot about him.



-=- [II] -=-



My father, Akhenaten, died aged 37 while robbing the same general store Gautama had. He’d been the black sheep in his family due to him having Marfan Syndrome. It meant that he had a short pot-bellied torso, long head and limbs. He was lucky to last for those thirty-seven years. He could have died earlier from a ruptured aorta; common in the condition, or so I’m told.


My mother, Soma, always wanted to know why people didn’t ask for as much from her anymore. She wanted to know why, however hard she tried; people didn’t have the same, wide-eyed, ecstatic, reaction to her anymore.


Brindley is building canals in the back yard, he’s my brother. He has dug plastic tubing, cut in half to form an artificial river, into the sand pit, “to irrigate” he says, “to irrigate”, but it just irritates. His dream is to see Panama, but he has a shattered pelvis and a busted arm. Still, he sits on the huge plush cushion and tra... ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5578706/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5578706/ Tue, 07 Jun 2005 10:26:50 PDT DRAFT ONE – SEX AND CYNTHIA GREY

(help needed chicos)




-=-




Gautama stole a poetry book from a general store. I saw him, I was 13 at the time and, while he did it, he told me to keep quiet. Which I did. Aeschylus tried to stop him but, ironically, he was stabbed in the neck with a bic biro. Now Gautama is in prison but can’t stop asking to be let out. He’s got a new philosophy, he says. He writes his name a thousand times in the exercise yard dirt. His cellmate, Bhik, calls it sand scrawl. Gautama calls it Vedic.

I went to visit once he told me something. “Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds.” I asked him, what could erase murder and he fell silent. At least I got a goodbye. Before I got on with my life. Forgot about him.




-=-




My father, Akhenaten, died aged 37 while robbing the same general store Gautama had. He’d been the black sheep in his family due to him having Marfan Syndrome. It meant that he had a short pot-bellied torso, long head and limbs. He was lucky to last for those thirty-seven years. He could have died earlier from a ruptured aorta; common in the condition, or so I’m told.

My mother, Soma, always wanted to know why people didn’t ask for as much from her anymore. She wanted to know why, however hard she tried; people didn’t have the same, wide-eyed, ecstatic, reaction to her anymore.

And myself? My name ain’t important, as you have plenty to deal with as it is, or so you’d think, if you had thought about it.

Put this paper down, right now. Switch off the screen a second, if you’re wired up.

Pause.

Set yourself apart from this syntax.

Steal yourself a heartbeat.

A breath.

Singular.

Now repeat, endlessly.

I enjoy a game of basketball, sadly, I often play alone. Shoot. Repeat. Fail. Retry.

Rilke whispers to me from his swing in the sky.

“Love consists in this; that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other."

His back blocks sunshine as it tries to fall on the basketball court. I take my shot. Miss. Take another. Miss again. Blame it on him.

Regan screams at me “You have no heart for this!”

He screams for digitalis. For a scalpel. He’ll do it himself; though he doesn’t know how.

He screams to put God back in the classroom. The bastard wants to give God a taste of education. “Let him learn it all again!” He sneers.

God comes out with an ‘F’; and it is all down hill from here.





-=-





I’m sitting in my bedroom. I’m listening to music. The type of music is irrelevant.

An Ica stone holds my bedroom door open. I can see down the hall. My carpet is a Nazca plain and my ceiling is meant to be the heavens, but I’m sure I’m a few stars missing, perhaps even a sky god too.

I look over at my pet Koala sleeping in the fork of a tree. The eucalyptus leaves are growing thin and he has started on the Yucca, which Mother Soma bought from Sainsbury’s at the beginning of last week. She won’t be happy. She’ll be euphoric.

My goldfish, I see you have noticed my goldfish; I wish I had a real one and not just a fish made from gold. Cold fish; much colder for not having blood. Much colder than cold-blooded, but apparently more attractive. Thought I wouldn’t know. All my pets are warm-blooded. Father Akhenaten thought I would like fur more than scales. How wrong he was.





-=-





Allen Ginsberg, Gin to his mates. Gin for him, straight, unlike him. Allen, we’ll say, was born in New Jersey on the back end of the 20’s. Awakened America’s youth and put them right to sleep again. Well, me at least. Back row of lecture hall 3, 2:20pm. Slept my way into advanced philosophy.

My classmates are lesbians. Their actions, sadly, not on show. Though Fons, she has eyes to die for, sell my soul for, kinda eyes I’d burn for, if burning was on offer. I’d do a Joan of Arc for her, but I’m sure she’d rather I didn’t. My classmates are all lesbians and its depressing.

I make a dash for the refectory at 6pm, closed I know, I want to stare through the window and see the lack of atmosphere. See its lack of soul. See myself reflected back wide, wild eyes, again, a grin on my face.





-=-





John Belushi’s unpressed foot pedal, sits on the bedroom floor next to his body. Catherine Smith injected him with a speedball before settling down with a narrative of alienation, peopled by characters at the edge and sometimes beyond the... ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5571568/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5571568/ Mon, 06 Jun 2005 15:30:40 PDT
I am feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. There are quite a few things weighing on my mind. I need to take care of them. I need some help but, the things seem EASY that I feel ridiculous. They are simple tasks but, there are a lot of things that need to get done that I think, that I may explode. Then there is the BIG thing. I know that everyone has a big thing, but the big thing has all these little things attached. It makes completing the list so much more impossible. I think that I may become a hermit. Hide away in the shealter at the end of the road. At least there I will not have to worry about all this stuff and could write and watch the sea all day through the huge plastic windows. Having said that I am having a lot more fun than I used to. I’m a lot happier. Just not completely healed from the breakdown.

All these THINGS are weighing down on me and I don’t know what to do. I can explain the feeling somewhat. It is like a huge cloud is behind me and it is catching up slowly, I panic when I think about it for any length of time. Small panic attacks are not good!

While I was walking along the promanarde the other day it dawned on me that I don’t spend enough time just thinking about things and I often waste time thinking about stupid things like the everyday nonsense that drags out behind and piles up infront. My task is to think more about the important things in life. BIG questions. Only now that I think about it whenever I have all I have done is think about it and, on odd occasions, write about them. I have never actually pinned any of these grand ideas down. They are all LUCID BUTTERFLYS.

Some of those little things are simple things like getting a JOB, planning a HOLIDAY, my girlfriend’s BIRTHDAY. All seem so simple, that it makes me think that I am just being stupid, but do you ever get this feeling? This feeling like, you can’t get it started for fear of wrecking it? I’m just being stupid I’m sure. I have to find a way to relax.
Today I will go out to the local Petrol Station and ask for a job. I think I will end up on my knees.

“PLEASE give me a JOB!” I say whilst holding the guy’s pant legs and weeping onto his black polished-to-fuck shoes.

“I NEED it otherwise I will not be able to SHAKE the CLOUD!” This part will be said while he holds my head in his hands and comforts me as I cuddle up to his salomn pink shirt. While I snag my hair on his nametag and he rings the local MENTAL HEALTH DEVISION.

“Don’t take me away! I need a JOB, I NEED A JOB!!! I’ll be good at it, you don’t even have to hook up the beep. I CAN DO THAT! LISTEN… BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEP!” And they cart me away on a trolly and stab my arm with a needle first chance they get. Then for the rest of my life I will be weeping in a dark room, strapped to a table, crying BEEP BEEP, quietly, out of the corner of my mouth.

After the Petrol Station I will go with my mother to drop off the change (1pence pieces and 2pence pieces) at the bank to be sorted and then the money will be given to the missions department of our regular church.
Later I will regret posting this. I’m sure I will. Oh well.


--





- The ear is close to the ground, but I only heard a heartbeat.

- NO FOOTSTEPS? Are you sure?




--= LATER =--


So it didn't go as planned. I didn't get the job - i have been told though to...


"Stop crying, it's ok, the manager will be in tomorrow."




SO i have to go in tomorrow.



-=-


I helped mother with those pennys - it came up to £656.


-=-


Got the James Blunt album i have been salivating over for the past 6 hours.

Got a metal block and now can't write for the life of me.

Damn. C you tomorrow.





-=-




The lights are on... someones home... but it isn't who it should be.
+

-Hit him with it larry.

-Shit.

-You missed you stupid fuck!

-I'm sorry, for christ sake Jane! STOP GETTING AT ME!!!

-He's coming this way, quick!

-What?!?!

-SHIT, HE HAS A KNIFE!

-What do you want me to do about it????!?!?!

-Hit him!

-With what?!?!

-Here!

-A vase?!? WTF!


*Smash*


-=-




-=-


P.S.


-i kissed an earing today

-why?

-i was kissing an ear and i slipped ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5569761/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5569761/ Mon, 06 Jun 2005 11:59:53 PDT
1) Hammer


Mission:

Find a kid with a Tamagotchi. Steal Tamagotchi. Use hammer on it. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5382116/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5382116/ Tue, 17 May 2005 11:25:48 PDT
my new poem mentholated is just a gag. don't pay any attention to me right now. i'm being stupid ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5370769/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5370769/ Mon, 16 May 2005 06:09:17 PDT
here it is [link]

hope you enjoy - i'm sure it will be back soon.

hopefully with something strong.


-=-


I have decided to talk about my poem. Feel free to ask questions and i will answer them

-

The Title.

The poem deals with a negotiation between elements, people and environment.

[I] The Battle

This whole poem is based on a true time in my life - much like counting morning on both hands - however some of the details have been edited and elaborated upon by my imagination.

The alcoholic existed and was having a fist fight, but the target of his anger was merely a passing gentleman in a long trench coat.

By implying that this passer by was a paedophile i hoped to open - or negotiate - a space for him as a villain. This is a personal experiment - if you believed for a second that he was a paedophile then my job is done.

It was an undercover idea. No one except the guy i was with would understand that in actual fact he wasn't - to my knowledge - a paedophile. It was stupid but i thought i would explain why exactly.

The drink 'mixing with itself' is sadly the drunk's blood mixing with the alcohol again.

[II] Beyond the Battle

The dog was the drunk's dog. It was wet through and before the fight had been cowering under his coat but since he got up to challenge the nonce, the dog got cold. Poor dog. Well it buggered off.

And yes i do believe that friends should bugger off and leave one to die in peace.

[III] In Front of the Café

All imagery pretty much.

A space filled with idiots thinking they are better off walking out to get home rather than staying warm and waiting for it to stop raining.

[IV] In the Street

They do they do, this is what cars did i tell you!

[V] Across the Road

Some people are smarter than others. When rain is whipped up by the wind there is no escape and you just have to say 'what the fuck!' and get on with your day.

You can't stop nature - you can only damage it severely - which you will agree we are doing.

Brave fellows riding the economic bomb into the mouth of the earth.

They are all accountants, lawyers and businessmen. So it is ok.

[VI] Inside the Café

-This is me.

-Where?

-Sitting there at the table.

-What? Checking out some girl?

-Sí

There we have it. A nice warm description to dry you guys off a bit and give you a comfort zone to focus on. And then the major idea of the poem all neat and wrapped up for you. Notice the bow and the glitter on the edges.

-=-

Love you all. This was more for myself as you can tell.

WHAT CAN I SAY!?!?!

I WAS BORED

CUT ME SOME SLACK JACK! ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5353953/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5353953/ Sat, 14 May 2005 07:13:48 PDT [random chunnerings]

I don't find it difficult to write. It's easy; I'm doing it now. It's more difficult to make this writing interesting. It's further difficult to go beyond that: to create something that moves someone. And if that becomes a stumbling block then it is impossible to punch keys, impossible to spell words. Just impossible. I'm struggling with what to put onto page here. This sterile page. I don't want to write about the events of a day when those events have not affected me in any significant way. I don't want to mention poetry or coursework or reading the pages of the singles section in the metro, because I cower when I think that I will have forgotten them tomorrow simply for their vague insignificance. Hours of insignificance. I should be asking myself awkward questions. I should be ill or excited or in despair or exultation but instead I'm dissatisfied. It's easy to write but for now I do so under this dreary apathetic shadow.

This day entered long after its passing. So many things remembered of days before that the ‘now’, the ‘here’, that fleeting understanding of what consititues the instant, pales and dies away from my thoughts. Scribbled notes; sentences highlighted passages in books. Strategically placed bookmarks. Devices that seek to capture something of the day. They'll perhaps resurface next week; next year maybe. Their absence, or, their migration, in itself becomes a point for conjecture.

So now I’m watching 14:59 turn into 15:00. These moments are the ones where time and its passing become all too lucid and awfully real. These liquid crystal figures: standing still, fifty-nine seconds, changing; standing still, fifty-nine seconds, changing. – It’s all too much. It’s all to obvious my life is just passing. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5308487/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5308487/ Mon, 09 May 2005 06:10:42 PDT
As you can see from the amount of colour on my userpage.

Enjoy it.

-


I am currently being inspired by -



all are a large influence on my direction as a writer, all worth checking out for yourselves. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5211416/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5211416/ Thu, 28 Apr 2005 09:40:50 PDT
Dennis Cooper - Period

JT LeRoy - Harold's End

Both fantastic - JT LeRoy more so.



I am currently being inspired by -



all are a large influence on my direction as a writer, all worth checking out for yourselves.


Current condition - less than happy. more than sad. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5201887/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5201887/ Wed, 27 Apr 2005 08:14:31 PDT All's well that ends well. true.

it has ended well.

anyway [the start of something new] i have come to understand that my writing suffers immensely at the moment from a state which i have dubbed ' 'intellectual overwhelm'

simply put [he thinks about things too much]

i do, it's true.

so in an effort to rid myself of thought i have spoken with the doctor and been prescribed a long stint of anti-depressants which i have decided to self prescribe according to my mood; or when i feel i am getting to close to that drop that i have also named myself 'the emotional cliff face'

so on to my reading for the next day or so [as he tends to read a lot]

i do, it's true.

Dennis Cooper - Period

JT LeRoy - Harold's End

each have been bought for me after many people remarked on my newest piece Archetype

the piece was inspired by the reading of 's prose piece Redemption of which i have used much content.

*dubbilex has been a large influence on my direction as a writer, he's worth checking out.


I will explain the piece in some detail in a later journal post [it makes him feel clever to stick in so much hidden meaning]

it does, it's true.

ok? ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5024262/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/5024262/ Thu, 07 Apr 2005 10:24:36 PDT
(i) constellation - the motivation behind this was being in a car with someone i had not known for long, if you have to know it's about getting to know someone new, not [so]ppy stupid.

(ii) VII - this one is more metaphy[sic]al - it's about my admiration for someone i used to work with but also about the fact that i desire very much to find that greater understanding. Like Philip Larkin said though "...to look at the world directly in the face; / the face he did not see to be his own." so i get the impression that perhaps i['m] look[ing] from the wrong angle - doesn't matter, it's just a feeling, a biting chill of a feeling, but just a feeling none the less.

-

I will explain motivations and perhaps key elements but these are by no means all there is to explain - i want you to look at what you are reading - work at it. I like things better that way. Deal.

-

I'd like to hear your thoughts on my new poems. Step to it. MARCH! ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4868889/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4868889/ Mon, 21 Mar 2005 04:13:30 PST
that's where i am headed. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4611955/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4611955/ Fri, 18 Feb 2005 04:47:04 PST
STOP IT!

Read the work for god's sake!

so i'm caught between a rock and a hard place, i want to get people reading my work so i add a picture

and the picture distracts from the work, any solutions?

oh well, perhaps i will make a simple plain picture to go with my poetry, though i hardly think i should have to resort to such action

find it in your hearts to read the words, they are located just below the picture

thank you. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4595778/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4595778/ Wed, 16 Feb 2005 06:27:43 PST
I power up the computer.

I check dA.

My jaw hits the keyboard.

What the hell? I mean i have a DDF suddenly.

How nice

Daily Deviation Feature on 'nova smile' by ~ME (barnaby)

A day filled with routine, war, and longing. To say the least. (Suggested by *kaujot and Featured on 2005-02-16 by ^ndifference)

What nice people you are.

Here's what you've been longing for.

I you both

and



now i'm off to bed. again. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4559386/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4559386/ Sat, 12 Feb 2005 03:31:23 PST

Today is partly cloudy and it's cold as always.


I quit working for my uncle and have picked up work in a restaurant. It'll do for now at least. My uncle is sleeping with some woman from the rounds. A widow, whose one child is in the clink.

I have a few skirts I’m following, I want to get a girl, usually they define me, I’m hoping now will be no exception. In all honesty I’m feeling the pinch from lack of intimacy.

I'm ashamed of myself.

I used to be such a nice boy.

My housemates are a bother as always, though I have set up a small friendship that I hope will lead to the sharing of certain substances.

This is me being honest.

Look where it's got me. ]]> =Barnaby http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4220449/ http://Barnaby.deviantart.com/journal/4220449/ Sun, 02 Jan 2005 12:16:09 PST
I’m wondering where all my friends have gone. Then I realise I am never in the same place twice.

I’ve left Prague, and Caitlin, far behind me and I’ve set up here in Montreal. I came here because of the job opportunity with my uncle. I work as an odd job kid for his delivery business, this means that all I do is deliver parcels and pick up parcels, and the ‘odd job’ part is whatever the middle-aged, widowed, women ask my uncle to do for them, I do it, he flirts.

I want to leave again; he keeps telling me that I have “found a place at last. No more living off the world Barney.” But I liked living off the world. I liked not having a fixed place to live. I liked the freedom that afforded me. He enjoys having someone to preside over. Before me there was his dog, Hotdog.

I’m not sure what to do, do I settle up with my housemates and my uncle and move on, or do I stay and try to build something here?

I’ll give it time.

Time is something I have a lot of, now that there is regular public transport. I used to have to walk everywhere. Now I get a nice fast bus to the end of my journey.

It’s painful how much time that gives you.

How many thoughts it takes away.

How many opportunities to meet people.

I used to meet people every mile. Now I have disgruntled passengers and bus drivers that keep their names to themselves. ]]> =Barnaby