Posts Tagged ‘Tim Lundmark’

I cannot figure out why I feel terror when I think about writing this post. It has been so long since I have posted anything, yet so much has transpired during the hours spanning from then to now. Fuck to be honest with you time for me is irrelevant. Time seems as unstable as my mind, which comforts me.

I am currently touring with Wizard World in their artist alley. I have done two shows, and my third one will be in St. LOUIS next weekend. My first show in Cleveland was a disaster, almost stopping the dream in its track. My investor became nervous, and I knew my next show in Vegas was going to be a rough show.

The show in Vegas was never meant to make money it was about creating happy memories between Cole and I. I wanted her to remember a better me. We hit every possible road block along the way, yet we made Vegas the best show I have ever had.

I promised myself I would finish off this tour to see where we are in surviving and if this dream is a bust or not. If this fails I worked as hard as I could and tried to make something better. I figured after Vegas things were over, but I am lucky to at least do one more show. If I can’t get the crucial things done to create a strong foundation than this will fail.

I have overhauled this blog, and my goal is to have the postings organized and incorporate writing via this forum again. Trying to start a vlog  to promote my Where The Visual and The Verbal Become One Collection, as well as the publication The Alpha of My Omega four part poetry series. Still trying to build complete website and continue to tour and maintain my false sanity

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Consistently Again

Your distorted astral plane of disgust

Broken porcelain dolls of death

Tears flow from rotten stench

Feelings of equal withered dreams

The path where you burned forests

Leaves nothing but tainted soil

Wicked words tear down levees

Ushering in floods of aggression

Creating water damaged minds

Too much pain is left

Monday mornings inevitable come

Relive my life all over again

Revised edition from the book ‘My Descent into Madness”

By: Tim Lundmark

Even though I know very little about it; I just can’t help but love poetry. I love the way I am able to express my inner most emotions and capture them on paper. I am not educated on what the various forms of poetry are; I just write. When I was younger I would write a few then toss them aside, but I would share them with very few people. I would get words stuck in my head, these words were so intense and jumbled I would have to grab a piece of paper and just write them down. I never kept anything that I wrote, but I wish I would have. I also used to write short stories, but sadly those were tossed as well. In college I would get stoned out of my mind and write some kick ass papers. I some how managed to get A’s on 95% of them. I really wish I would have kept them, especially my papers which basically got me kicked out of a Crown College (A private Christian school.) I only just started keeping my writings, and thanks to the wonderful internet I am able to share them with whoever stops by.

I was first turned onto poetry when I read the book “Where The Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein.  I loved everything about this book. The way it flowed and captured my imagination was fantastic. I vowed in my young dreamer way that someday I would write poetry that would appear in a book. My other inspiration which enthralled me was the Dr. Seuss books. His books seemed so magical. I wanted to write stories that emulated that certain flow which made his books so great (I sort of modeled my children’s books off his style.) I was later influenced by Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath, Jim Morrison, and Edgar Allan Poe  to only name a few. These inspirations made me want to be a writer. This was always a dream I have had, but never thought anything would ever come of it. It was one of those things you store deep inside. The only time it is mentioned is in a “wouldn’t that be great” conversation.

As I grew up I still held onto this dream of becoming a writer, but focused very little on honing my craft. I cannot remember the last grade I was in where I was really present and trying. I was a space case who cared little about school; because of this I learned very little about grammar and sentence structure which still stunts me to this day. I remember in fifth grade I wrote a short story about something or other. I handed it in and I remember the teacher making a comment about how someday I would become a writer. I do not remember this teacher’s name, but her words have been the words that have always kept the fire burning inside of me. I bet you she probably doesn’t even remember making that comment; yet I carried her words with me for twenty years, and it has given me hope.

So now here I am. My first book was published by a shady publishing house so I consider that work gone, and I do not consider this as an accomplishment because technically my book wasn’t really published. I self published my next two poetry books which is great but it is not the same feeling as having an agent tell you one of the larger publishing houses has agreed to publish your work. Poetry is a dead art form and there is not much demand for it these days. I think most current poets don’t even bother trying to publish their work; they are just content with it being on their blog, or on one of the many poetry websites. Seeing your work on a computer screen is nothing like seeing your book in print.

I haven’t been able to write any kind of poetry since I published those last two books I think that was back in September. I went through a similar drought after my first book got published. I think what happens is it is emotionally draining process. I tap into the sap of my soul and pour out the love and pain in my life. When I start writing I just can’t stop it is like one right after the other it is truly a magical experience. The problem is I just don’t know how good my stuff is. I have received a handful of reviews located on my website http://thephilosophyofme.com/book-reviews.html. One of my favorite reviews which aren’t located on my website is from Simone at http://spontaneousoverflow.com/wordpress/?p=1751, Even though this review does not necessarily paint my writing in the most positive light; I still seem to like it. I would love to take several writing courses at schools to hone my skills. I think my mind is a perfect tool it is just dull at the moment.    

I wish I lived during the time when poetry was considered an art, and heralded by the people. I have been doing research and literary agents will not represent poets, there is just no market for it. This sucks because I am currently working on three other poetry books, but I am getting to the point where I say to myself why even bother putting in the time for something that will never be read? The question I have is should I continue to work on my poetry projects or just focus on something different? I am really excited about my Tao Te Ching poetry book. I think this one will be my best yet, but should I even take the time? I really think the only way I am going to find readers is through doing live readings; which I hope to do my first few in January. I figure this will be the test to really gage if my work is any good. My goal is to get a local following, and one day become the main headliner, if I am able to do this then I can take some satisfaction that my work has not fallen on deaf ears.

I work as the Staffing Coordinator at a nursing home in Minnesota. One of my primary goals is to make sure the facility is staffed at all times; I also handle the schedules among other things. My days are spent doing the same routine over and over again. If I am derailed from my routine I become anxious and confused. Now obviously there are minor interruptions, but I have grown accustom to these and they rarely derail me, but for the most part I need my routine to function. On every other Monday I need to do payroll for the last two weeks. I do this for around seventy people in the nursing department, and about twenty-five lodge workers. This is the first thing I do on these Mondays, but yesterday decided to throw me a curveball. I sat at my desk and started to do payroll. I noticed everything was messed up; our time clock broke on Thursday. Apparently the time clock did not record any punches from the 30th to the 2nd. My boss instructed me to exit this program so they can try and fix it. This was devastating to me.

I was so lost and I was doing a little here and a little there, but not being able to stay focused on one single task. I was so scattered brain; causing everything to fall apart around me. I was having anxiety attacks all day, which some turned to pure panic. I was still able to get work done but I was in a haze of confusion. I struggled to do my other Monday tasks, but it was difficult since I was doing it at a different time, and the knowledge of not being able to do my first task. One of the things I do at the end of the day is deliver the staffing book along with the schedules for the next day to each floor. These schedules are crucial to the function of the nursing department. Without these schedules the place would erupt into chaos and order would break down. Nobody would know which floor or unit they were on. If this was left for the twenty-seven employees to try and figure out where they are supposed to be it would be random chaos. You can almost guess where this is going.

I am getting ready to wind down for the day. My routine is taking two of my sedatives at 7:00pm, and the remainder between 8-9pm. I took a double dose of my seven o’clock meds because I was all manic from my destroyed day. I started my nightly routine of trying to shut myself down. Now at 8:15 I take my next round of sedatives which include three separate meds. I must add I take these medications because I suffer from insomnia, and if you add in mania with insomnia it is very hard to shut myself down and go to sleep. So I am watching a movie and I am not feeling really tired and I am starting to panic around 9:30. I go upstairs and take another sedative to try and get me to sleep. It is now 10pm and I am just starting to fall asleep when my phone rings, and it is my work informing me there are no schedules in the staffing book for the next day. My office is locked, so I have no choice but to drive into work and get the schedules out.

I was really groggy and close to sleep. I noticed when I was talking to my wife my words were slurring. I live in Shakopee and work in Plymouth. It is a straight shot down 169 from my house to my work, but is a longer drive. It had snowed earlier so I was worried about the ice on the road. As I start driving I can tell I am really fucked up, and that this is going to be one hell of a journey. I was swerving all over the road and feared I would be pulled over. I am not aware of the laws, but I am sure if I got pulled over and told the cop I am driving on sedatives I would probably be arrested for a DUI. I know I would have never passed the field sobriety test. I at this point started praying and hoping I don’t crash or get pulled over.

One of the many side affects of taking all my medication is nausea. If I stay up to long after taking them I get really ill, so now I am driving not only fucked up out of my gourd, but I also feel like I am going to vomit. To make a long story short I made it to work stumbled to my office and up to the floors to deliver the schedules. At this point the nausea and grogginess has gotten much worse. I make it to my car and proceed to head home. It is snowing at this point, and I suffer from severe anxiety driving in adverse weather, so now I am sick, fucked up, and starting to suffer from a panic attack. I ended up driving around 40mph on a 65mph highway swerving from here to there. Obviously since I am writing this I made it home okay. I stumbled in the door holding back vomit and just struggling to get to bed. I think once I laid down I was out in two minutes. It was a scary and crazy experience, and looking back on it now I can chuckle to how close I was to either crashing or getting pulled over. Perhaps my prayers were answered; wouldn’t that be something.

****I need to add a side note to this post. I received a comment from Rambling asking why I didn’t have my wife drive me, and how I could have endangered the lives of another person. To be honest I was not even thinking about it. This makes me sound like a total douche. I got the call and ran out the door because I had no choice but to go. This of course does not excuse my stupidity, because I have a strict driving while intoxicated policy. If I have one drink I will not drive for the entire day. It is amazing how I did not even think about this.

I try my best to put out quality posts every day, just as I try to write riveting emotional poems, or rhyming fascinating children’s books. I try to do this but there are times I simply come up short of greatness. With my poems when I write a stinker I can normally keep it to myself, unless I was dumb enough and published it in one of my books. When I received my first print copies of “Yin” and “Yang,” I went back to read my poems and thought to myself “seriously this is dog shit!” I am not too worried about my poetry so much because it is a dead art and will never do anything for me anyway. I look at my poetry as a hobby not anything which is substantial. I do not seem to have any issues writing the “Dylan Thomas” books because it all seems to come to me naturally. When I sit down to write one it just seems to come to me in perfect order. The first “Dylan Thomas” book I wrote took me eight hours, while the second one took me twenty minutes and my editor said it was far better than the first one. Now my blog is different, my blog is a personal invitation inside of my world and direct access to my mind. I write just to write which has caused me to publish some pretty horrible pieces, which I wish I could take back. This blog is one of my gateways for people to purchase my books; if I come up short on a post then this new reader may not consider buying one of my books.

When I sit down to write a post I try my best to calm my thoughts, and grab the first thing that comes to mind and just start writing about it. It is very rare I will be calculated with what I write except for my Tao Te Ching series. I put a lot of thought and reflection into these pieces before I write them. Beyond this series I am just all over the board. While I am writing these posts it flows from my brain onto the computer screen. While I am writing it I think I am writing the most interesting post of all time. I have often times gone back to read a post and wonder what the hell I was thinking about. This is a concern for me because this blog represents the first impression of how I will be perceived by my readers. If a new reader stumbles upon one of my posts and the first one they reads is horseshit like the one I did last week about the Shield. If this is their first impression of me then they will not come back for more, or ever consider purchasing any of my books. I feel a great sense of pressure to ensure what I am writing is quality stuff. Now take this post for example I am just rambling with no real purpose and I may publish this garbage. How many people are going to be interested in reading about how I write some shitty things sometimes? This is neither riveting nor interesting.

I am sometimes delusional and think what I am writing is a masterpiece. One example of such delusional thinking when it comes to what I feel is a great post is in two posts I wrote last week. I thought when I wrote You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back. and Absurdism, Religion, and Nothing. To me I thought I just wrote something which was brilliant. When I was driving home with my wife I was telling her how great I thought the “never lose by loving” post was. She kind of grounded me a bit by pointing out where I failed to get my point across. She did this in an honest and loving way which I appreciate. I know I wrote two bad posts last week; the Shield post and the one about the Tao of poetry. I went back and re-read them and was very embarrassed over what I wrote.

My greatest enjoyment in my quest to become a writer is writing on this blog. These brief posts are snapshots into my mind and soul. I know anyone can sit and write a blog, and this requires no special talent, but there is this odd sense of accomplishment each time I hit publish.  I know this blog will do very little to further my writing career. I know I am not good enough to become a career blogger, so I often times wonder why I waste the time doing it. I know this site will not really help me sell books, and I know anybody who reads this blog will think twice about ordering a children’s book written by me. Regardless of all this my posts on this site are by far my greatest accomplishments. There is a certain high I get knowing somebody has not only read my work but enjoyed it. I just worry the garbage posts will turn them away.

I do not want to really “work” to write these posts I just want them to write themselves to help ease the hemraging on my brain. The day I need to struggle to find something in my mind is the day I know it is time to end this. I will continue to write posts which are shitty, but I also know at least once a week I will write something good. It is these good posts that keep the fire burning. So now it is time to hit submit.

www.thephilosophyofme.com

In between projects, when feel uncreative I work on my upcoming book “The Life and Mind of No One Special.” This requires me to go back and edit my old posts and transfer them over into book form. In going back and reading these old posts I am stunned by how shitty they were written. I am almost ashamed I published these posts as they were, and I am even more surprised people have come back again to read it.

I started this blog back in January as a way to help keep my creativity juices flowing. I never really thought anyone would read it, so I just vomited all over the computer keys with my poorly thought posts. I have and still do write my posts during my lunch break; not a ton of thought goes into what I am going to write about. Something will come to my mind and I just go with it. I do not research my topic, nor do I go back and edit what I have written. Like I said earlier I never thought anyone would even see it.

I still follow this guideline; except now through practice I have learned a few things about writing. I still do not feel my writing is good especially when I read some of these talented writers out here. I have no formal writing training; I was not really around for school so basic sentence structure escapes me. My vocabulary is weak and I have no concept of grammar. This becomes apparent to me when I read posts by “The Rambling Taoist.” His ability to write is just mesmerizing. I like to think with another nine months of writing I will continue to get better. I know I have a long way to go, but I think it is a good sign I am able to see fault in my early posts.

I have thought about taking writing classes at my local community college; but this would simply not work. I do not have the time or the money to commit to such a thing. I know starting from square one and building on the basics would help me. I could always go enroll in my son’s elementary school, since public schools are free. I could just skip all my other classes. I don’t know what kind of role model I would be for my classmates and besides the principle would probably report me to the school cop for being truant. I could go purchase a writing or grammar book for dummies. The problem is when I try to read all the words become jumbled and it is hard for me to comprehend the material.

I just can’t figure out how to get better without knowing the basics. I think this is why I enjoy writing poetry because I can write anyway I want. I have had people praise and condemn me because I do not follow traditional poetry guidelines. The only poetry form I know is haikus. Beyond that I have nothing. I don’t think there should be guidelines or structure when it comes to poetry. I think poetry should be an open art form, and can be written exactly how the author intended it to be. I have found when painted in a box I cannot write for shit. This is why I enjoy this blog so much because there is no structure. This is a jumbled mess of random thoughts spewing from my brain. These two mediums define me as a person.

Statistics show people who say “at least I have my health,” are nine times more likely to get cancer.

If I could learn how to play any guitar; it would be one with strings.

A high five a day keeps the blues away.

Sometimes I turn left just because the sign tells me not to.

The longest point between A to B is a conversation with children and the elderly.

Those who say the grass isn’t greener on the other side have never been there.

I wonder if it would motivate me to lose weight if instead of “XL” my shirt size said “Your Fat.”

Sometimes I think if I didn’t have a job I would be unemployed.

I don’t think Jerry Maguire would have gotten away with stealing those fish.

If the last shall be first and the first shall be last where does that leave the middle class?

Just once I would like to experience the “slow clap” like in the movie “Rudy,” and “Lucas.”

What’s the difference between pooping at home and pooping at work? At home I am filled with pride; at work I am overcome with shame.