Postcard from Helms Jackson

November 21, 2009

Yo! It’s me Helms Jackson coming at you from the netherworld. Being just the thought of a memory gives me a lot of freedom. It feels good actually. Hovering around checking things out. You oughta try it. Four out of five dentists recommend it.

But I know our time is short so I’ll get to the point. The words shared so far represent the early stage of my thoughts. Chilling ain’t it? A good friend and I were on my balcony the other day smoking a spliff and he asked me why I hadn’t done any writing lately. I told him since I’m just 23 years old, I don’t think I’ve lived enough to really share anything besides drugs and suicide and loneliness. He said that that’s all any young writer has to share, for the most part, and so I shouldn’t hold back.

After I thought about it for a while, I figured, you know, he’s right. So I decided to let it all out.

I started with free form, almost like little notes to myself. Most of these so far came out effortlessly in one stream of thought while sitting in my chair by the window in my small attic rental in a duplex near downtown. A few of them I wrote after coming home from the bar drunk.

What comes next are more structured efforts to express my feelings. Some will be forced into meter and rhyme scheme. Others will be poor attempts to mimic Elizabethan structure. Marlowe had a big impact on me.

I’m leading you down this path. I hope you will follow.


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