Today is my 35th birthday, which feels like a significant number.
My thirties have been a blur of extreme change: love, loss, gratitude, self-abuse, and expression. I feel I’ve lived a lifetime in the last five years.
As this is the halfway mark to 40, what’s to come of all this change? What’s the lesson? What became of the poetry that seemed to pour from me?
Recently I came to realize that i was out of alignment. My spirit had moved forward while my mind continued to cling to the pain and poor habits I’d established over recent years.
So to meet the muse where she must be met, I’m dedicating my mind and heart to rediscovery in my 35th year. To live, fully, while there’s still light.
My third book will be my best yet. I will champion my work, I will celebrate yours, and I will know myself better than I ever have.
The sky was an oil painting and I was stoned and terrified doing 80 down i40, as close to Hunter S. Thompson as I'll ever be
In between moments of sheer panic, I thought of poetry and art and how older men confused by such things are just older men afraid of being swallowed up by a world that never cared to be understood
I squealed like a child on exit 8 I spun round and round careless and unworthy of my blessings wrapped in the arms of my shame When the car straightened I wiped away tears
I wanted to take a moment to talk about this book as I haven’t nearly enough. As I wrote the poems that would become Real Big American Zen, I knew the book would be a tough sell. The idea for the cover featuring my masked face would rub some the wrong way; the title would cause some to assume (wrongly) that the writing would lean to one side of the political aisle or the other, and it would stand as a reminder of a year that most of us would rather forget.
I also felt in my bones that it would be, in some way, disingenuous for me to try and steer the work in a different direction; This was the world I was inhabiting; these were the decisions my family and I faced; this was the feeling of my country and the world teetering on the edge of the unknown and unthinkable.
Fast forward to May of this year, my publisher and I are putting the final product together; we’ve managed to incorporate some of my artwork and photography into the book, and though I’m thrilled with our work, I’d come to realize that significant change was needed in my personal life.
In the two years since my father had passed, I hadn’t been treating myself very well. My mental and physical health had gotten away from me, and I was relying heavily on alcohol to suppress the sadness and rage I felt inside. I knew that significant changes were needed, and there was no time to waste.
Now here we are in late September, and I’m proud to say that I feel I’ve regained some control. I feel happier and healthier than I have in years, and though I’m still learning how to steer my creativity with a clear mind, I know the next chapter will be an exciting one.
One of the casualties of these changes was the promotional efforts for Real Big American Zen. I’m going to attempt righting the ship and shining whatever light I can on this collection of poetry, of which I’m still so proud. In the coming days and weeks, I’ll be sharing pieces from the book, perhaps some readings, as well as my Recent Abstractions series.
If you haven’t purchased a copy, I hope you’ll consider doing so. If you’ve bought and read the book, I hope you’ll consider leaving reviews at Amazon and Goodreads or anywhere else you like.
Here’s a recent piece for your enjoyment. As far as color goes, this is a bit of a departure from other works in this series. Still, there’s something that calls to me. I hope you hear it too.
Brandon White 