Poetry That Wouldn't Pass a Breathalyzer: "Grace"

random likeness to any other one,

i admit I am but a shadow of a son.

the drum beats deep in my brain,

and I fail all those I maim.

like ice melts, so does my soul.

and like the moon eclipses, my heart is coal.

empty streets and flat meadows,

line the plains of my minds avenues and,

with the slight bend of the left side,

i twist, turn and contort to get a clearer view.

a clearer view of something which does not exist.

it does not happen, nor does it present.

run run run 

say, who do you think is behind all this?

a child? spinning his wheels and blowing in the breeze?

likely.

grown ups have only one type of sardonic nature;

the painful type.

i have fallen from a grace which had little grace at all.

written under the influence by

jeff campagna

RERUN: The Decline of The English Language

Let's all take a moment to admire the severe eroding of what was once such an eloquent and useful language and means of communication. The following are actual comments left on a music video I directed that was posted on YouTube; perhaps the most criminal catalyst for said decline. Others being micro-blogospheres such as Twitter that force one to abbreviate their thoughts into 140 characters or less.

ChampionVideos69

"Yo man this is the best song everTheyre Ukrainian too man even better UKIES FOR LIFE"

xtopher

"...the guys hit, girls hot. sounds awesome, videos hilarious. LOL!~amazing combo.ill take 2. ahha"

whiskeygirl188

"I Loove Thiss Song But I Cant Seem To Download It On Limewire. It WOnt Work?!:["
greeneyesdragonlol"this song suchs haha"

greeneyesdragonlol

"im jk its awesome"

Brunettexcandy
"LOl This SOnnng (L)"

and the 'Piece de Resistance':

gohabsgo152025
"lol id hate if tht band just showed up watch huis lips when theyre playing hes like fuck off"

As I watch the tool which I use to create slowly being widdled down to it's retarded nub like Andy Dufrain's rock hammer of freedom, I think to myself; "WTF. U ppl hav no idea the consequences of ur actions :[ !?!?!"

writing under the influence,

jeffc

Poetry From When I Was Young and Wished I Knew What I Know Now

In high school I wrote poetry, but nothing that anyone would ever see. Poetry wasn't cool, and I wanted to be cool - so I wrote it, and hid it. Before we got rid of our old Pentium 2 I remember printing all the poems I wrote out, so, just incase any of them were any good, I wouldn't lose them forever. And so all my poems sat lifeless in a stack of white printer paper and as I moved, they moved with me. This morning I found them while looking for a Glycemic Index book for my mother. I sat in my underwear and read them, and starting now, will be publishing some of them right here on my blog - mainly because, whether it's cool or, I just don't give a shit now.

Now I know why people kill themselves... Their sick of life. Sure, you could have told me that, but I feel their pain. I'm tuned to the agony of lack of enjoyment. I had flare, once, and now it's vanished. Where? I don't know really. I'm sure it will be back, it's just a matter of time I guess. People feel like life has nothing left to offer them, they've gotten their fill, their fix. There's nothing more pathetic than a man at the depths of an ether binge. The cool evening breeze keeps me from sliding south. It's life's little idiosyncrasies that keep me sane. Sometimes I feel so sane... it drives me crazy. Ironic I know, but then again sometimes the only reason why I write is to stop the cursor from blinking.

There you have it. Volume 1 of "Poetry From When I Was Young and Wished I Knew What I Know Now". As you can see it lacks even the rudimentary forms of a poetry, it does not rhyme, it hardly makes sense and posses not even a title.

writing under the influence,

jeffc

Masterpieces in The 21st Century

It has been a while since my last post, and for that I apologize, whether you care or not. The past week has been busy with script re-writes, charity screenings, music video post and the oh so taxing selection screenings for the 2009 Mississauga Independent Film Festival which I co-founded.

However, I was shown this amazing video by a very promising local fashion designer, Mark Lacaria (his blog: (www.LuigiSardo.com), and thought it was something to write home about, or in my case, something to write the world about.

It is exactly what it looks like. Stop Motion Graffiti. Which is to say that it's a series of thousands of photographs taken during the spray painting of a continuing surface, constantly having to erase the previous lines, in order to manufacture the effect of animation. Not only is it done with technical flare and precision, but the style and concept of the artwork is original and intriguing.  In a time where technology has conquers the classics and urban art has stolen the head turns from cubists and the French Renaissance, I recklessly deem  this video A Masterpiece of The 21st Century...

Don't be surprised if you see this concept in a future music video I direct, well, in this case, it would be one I would co-direct - of course sharing the directing credit with the artist.

I'll be back with a proper self-indulgent manic rant in a few days... I promise.

writing under the influence,

jeffc

SPOTLIGHT: Frank Zappa

Probably, I was eleven, maybe twelve when I was first introduced to the music of Frank Zappa.  And make no mistake, it was a very rudimentary, tip-of-the-iceberg sort of relationship at that point. I heard "My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama" and thought... 'damn, that's cool'. (I am, in all probability, paraphrasing myself, at eleven, I either would have said 'darn' or 'shit')

On deck for my listening pleasure was "Valley Girl" followed by "Don't Eat That Yellow Snow".  And so it went, as I presume it did for most, in sort of a 'listen to these funny rock songs from the 70's' fashion. 'Who is this guy?' I'd ask. 'I dunno. Just some guy who named his kids funny names like Moon Unit' I'd be told. 

And so for the next half of my life I went on believing Mr. Zappa was a novelty rock musician from the hippie days of a more liberal and progressive economy. I am sure Zappa fans, then and now, had and have a much more detailed and accurate perspective on Zappa's career and contribution to modern music.

Pioneering the use of recording equipment still in use today, helping to bring experimental music to the forefront of commercial record sales with over 60 albums, writing Jazz, Rock, Electronic and Musique Concrete and becoming a renowned international orchestral composer are just a few of the jenga blocks which make up the prolific and wobbly life of Frank Zappa. Not to mention directing feature films and music videos... A man with unwavering commitment to not only his art and it's conceptual continuity, but the freedom of speech and absurdity of verbal censorship.

Get to know him here:

Zappa in Full Form...

Wicked Ass Interview with a Wicked Ass Theory...

Zappa Chews The Fat Over Freedom Of Speech...

writing under the influence,

jeffc

I'm Not Alone

So, the following is a post I have come across which shook me to my very core in a profound and inspiring fashion. Written by Bonnie Kozek, a published author, it basically embodies my fears, preoccupations and self-prophecies pertaining to the life of one who lives by the written word. Bonnie also shares my love of words and seems to display the same notions of scripturiency, but perhaps in a more tactful way. Please enjoy her post, I am including the first portion of it, click the link afterwards to view it in it's entirety on her site.

UNDER THE INFLUENCE: WRITERS AND DEPRESSION AND CHOICES CHOSEN
Bonnie Kozek--March 2009

The writer suffers. London, overdose. Woolf, drowning. Mattheissen, leap. Hemingway, gunshot. Plath, gas. Berryman, leap. Inge, carbon monoxide. Sexton, carbon monoxide. Brautigan, gunshot. Levi, leap. Kosinski, overdose. Gray, drowning. Wallace, hanging. Mishima, ritual suicide culminating in assisted beheading. This accounting, even in the extreme, barely skims the surface.

The American psyche has long been acculturated to the idea of the “suffering writer” – the “mad artist” – the connection between creativity and insanity. Moreover, American writers, as referenced in the above abridged list of suicides, have substantially contributed to the incontrovertible nature of this broadly accepted “tradition.” Indeed, beginning with research first conducted in the 1970s, the scientific community has attempted to explain the phenomenon of the “suffering writer.” In her book, Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament, Kay Jamison, professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University, reports that writers are as much as 20 times as likely as other people to suffer depressive illnesses. Why? There appears to be two principal reasons: First, illness brought on by individual biology and/or traumatic experience, and secondly, a predisposition by way of birthright. Couple this with the inherent downsides of the profession — isolation, loneliness, rejection, financial insecurity – and the glamorization of the suffering writer – so prevalent that it has engendered a kind of “suffering competition” – (Upon learning of Plath’s suicide, Sexton is reported to have said covetously, “She took something that was mine! That death was mine!”)— and there you have it: A foregone conclusion.

To View the rest of this article click here

Thanks Bonnie, for making me feel less crazy. With any luck, we'll find out that we're not simply both crazy.  

writing under the influence,

jeffc