I felt like a failure all my life. Despite a lucrative career, a lovely house, and an active lifestyle that cannot fit all my ambitions into a single day, I still do, because I have not written a novel. I dedicated over half my life to that dream, mostly to neglect it but never to relinquish it. It inspired me to persevere even at my lowest points. If I was not a writer, what was I?
The eleven seconds it takes for the final boss theme of Mega Man 4 to loop taught me that brevity does not diminish the artistic essence of a work. I do not need to hit a word count to be a writer. I write poems, I blog, and sometimes I write short stories. I may not be a novelist—I cannot commit to people or stories for that long—but I am a writer. I will have to relinquish those dreams of becoming a famous novelist, but to be fair, how many writers dream of becoming the next Stephen King or J.K. Rowling, and how many do? I do not want to write to fulfill a dream that no longer inspires me. I want to write for my own sake, and I do not want to write a novel.
Grant me greater insight to spot the spiders above me. The sight frightens me less than their unseen presence when they lift me off my feet and pierce me through my heart. I can flee what I can see before it kills me, but I distrust senses that twitch at the wind. They cannot discern dreams from reality. I mistake strangers for soulmates because of a nostalgic fragrance, but if I actually saw through the glamour, I would see nobody I knew or ever would. I would walk through the fog and open the door to a greater battle, one that I could actually win, because I trained all my life for this. Not for love, but to win.
Emily Dickinson is back, bitches! Exclusively on Apple TV+ for only five dollars per month or free with the purchase of a new Mac or iPhone. Fuck the Mandalorian and the Simpsons beckoning us from inside the mouse house. It’s a trap that will break your back once you step through. Neither have been good for decades, and the live-action Lady and the Tramp is a piss-poor imitation of classic animation. The Little Mermaid looks good, but that’s free on ABC. I will not stop for Mickey, though he kindly stops for me. His carriage has horses but no wheels and travels in circles with the merry-go-round. Fast, but always returning to where we started, stuck in the past chasing after plastic figures printed from the same mold. Some silver, some gold, all cheap and unable to stand on their own. The castle deteriorates. The theme parks fall apart. The honeymoon approaches dawn. Change the channel and support real poetry in Dickinson, played by Hailee Steinfeld, featuring Wiz Khalifa as death. Let the past die. Kill it if you must. No more bad live action remakes. Embrace something new. Apple TV+.