I’ve moved to a Tumblr based hosting and platform blog. I use it more, the community is better, and it’s working for me.

http://www.bryemye.com

See ya there!

i hurtle through the space of void and blank
i speed in circles around and round
that point around which i whirl
approaches it
comes to a point concentric in finally coming to
a point is come
in the
void and blank i
the moon circle
the orbit a circle comes crashing
pulled to crash
into the point around
i whirled into the point and
it left me to
crash through
out into
moment to moment you stop like a dream
but tell me,
sir,
madam,
what are dreams then?

when he runs he runs inside a ball
of crystal cast before the fall
and casts about for what was his
but i owned you, he says

what is owning what is light
cast about and sift for that
what is yours what could be mine
sift and cast and search and crash
and roll around inside your ball
of crystal cast before your fall
among the verdant hills,
roll among your valleys, hills, holes, hearts,
cry me what you own, when you own
and have come to a stop, runner

and answer me these questions
posed upon this night
what is owning
what is light
what’s in a heart
what’s in a mind
what will happen when you stop
and eye is watching from above
and you’ve cast about for what you own
and cried to me what you have found
runner

if you bled me into a glass
on a january morning
as the sun rose, snow blowing up from drifts

and toasted the sunrise,
the departing dawntime,
put peachcream dawntime with bloody dusktime
a bloodsuck temptation with the sunrise

and tossed my life upon a window pane
blood freezing in the dawntime,
blowing snow into the bloodlines
bloody art time, mixing snowlives,
preserving one time, an instant of mine

and rewind watch creation in my mind
in these times mind sucks me dry
just give me one pretty splatter
and i will etch my name in with a leach
juicy young man
here i am

It’s 2010. Time to stop pretending like the 90s weren’t a long time ago. I’m 23 years old, and this decade will either be the one that really gets me to where I want to be in my life, or I’m going to have very different goals in 2020 than I do now. Professional success and, likely… oh god. Likely marriage? Very possibly… little ones? I guess ten years is a good bit of time, right?

I took a trip down to Puerto Rico for my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary roughly over the new year. It was fun, but both of them have had declining health recently and that puts a bit of a damper on things for me (moreso for them, I suppose). Specifically, my grandmother has breast cancer, and she wants a novel before she dies.

Oh shit.

Now, I’ve been devoting large chunks of my free time to writing over the last couple months with my applications for MFA programs in creative writing. Even though most of what you see here is poetry, I am applying in fiction, and writing a novel is one of my biggest goals in life. Past that, I’m 23. Two-three. Probably a quarter of the way to being dead, if I’m lucky (come on medical science). It would be high-achieving, but certainly not ridiculous, for me to write a novel this year. I’m here.

I think one of the biggest anxieties I have about undertaking such a huge task as writing a novel is my skill level now, where I think it will be soon, and not wanting to have so many pages of crap. Many times, especially with an author’s first novel, you can see them “settling in” for the first few chapters and I worry that would just be the entire book. It’s better to have short stories that I can get more reps in, the thought would go, and then proceed to a novel, even though people often say they’re so different.

The above paragraph is probably mostly bullshit at this point. I’m going to put that out there, I suppose here, really, on the internet. Here is the statement. Well, it’s above this, but you can go back and look at what it says. Or just read what follows this sentence. As of January 3rd, 2010, Brian Miles thinks he’s being a pussy for not starting a novel because he’s afraid of failure, or of it not being “up to his potential,” which he’s been living on for a while now. By a while, he means 23 years, since that’s how old he is.

I do have some ideas for a novel. Perhaps sketching those out first would be a good step. Best not to go diving into things with a rush of blood to the head, now…

It’s been a little while since I updated this bad boy. I’ve been busy, mostly struggling with a story I’m trying to finish for graduate school applications. At times it feels like running in place with leaden boots, really.

Naturally since I’ve had writer’s block I’ve been exploring a multitude of other fun things I like to do. This includes unproductive things like watching football or soccer, but it also includes hacking around on my computer, that old flame that keeps returning to me even after I neglect it for months on end.

I think the reason I like both boils down to a creative urge I have now and have had all my life. This urge makes me want to make things that I see in my mind, that is conceptualize, into reality. Now with writing that’s a gray area since, you know, it’s just words (ha!). With computers it’s slightly different.

Now, I’m not going to stop writing or reading because it’s just beautiful. It’s inconceivable to me that I would have to stop reading stories and poetry or stop being able to write, really. At the same time, I wish I had more time to play around on the computer, especially with all the cool web applications that are now possible.

*emo sigh*

Most useless post ever.

in the length of the time
in the space of the knot
in the way that you stopped,
there, in blank and blank,
like a dot, there, red in a white
and stopped, where, there in the light,
like a dot.

by the starlight the eye seems roundabout ways,
sees roundabout ways,
sees through the waves, past through to the days,
the days past through today’s today.

see black black slate
all black no light
point and point
there
where is the eye?

Skimming through the movies on television as I often do when I go home to my parents’ house, I recently found a Finnish film called “Lights in the Dusk” (2006) on Sundance. The description promised loneliness, neo-noir, and Finnish people; I was in. What transpired over the next 80 minutes was about as sparse a movie as I’ve seen. It was also positively art.

The first artist I can compare this director to, with my limited experience, is Samuel Beckett. Both artists have taken it upon themselves to show their audience the safety net still available to people in modern society. The first piece of Beckett I think of in this regard is “Endgame.” While it seems as though the protagonists in “Endgame,” as well as Koistinen in “Lights,” have nothing at all going for them despite all their honest efforts, in the end the presence of a single friend, a soul with which one might commiserate in an otherwise indifferent world, redeems a life which otherwise might very well result in the abyss being argued against in Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus. Humans must periodically find a reason to go on.

Here I’ve gotten ahead of myself; I suppose I might expect a reader to be vaguely familiar with Endgame, but asking you to be familiar with this relatively obscure Finnish movie is a bit much, isn’t it? The movie features Koistinen, a lonely security guard who is trying earnestly but cannot seem to catch a break. His co-workers either ignore him or mock him. He attends a trade school in an effort to learn enough business to follow his dream of opening a garage. When he goes to the bar to try to meet people, nobody wants anything to do with him. His is a lonely existence. Eventually, a gorgeous blond woman sits down to “keep him company” in an empty coffee shop. They date, awkwardly, and eventually she uses him to frame him for a robbery of the jewelery store for which he is a security guard. He goes to jail because he won’t give her up, through anything, and gets out after a year. While working as a dishwasher, the woman’s boss gets him fired (he does have a conviction for theft). He tries to kill the guy, pathetically, with a knife, fails, gets beaten up, and finds himself at the end of the movie in a sandpit, beaten nearly to death.

So what’s good about the movie? A few things. One, the director makes the audience love his protagonist. It upsets us (or it did me, in any case) that this guy keeps getting marginalized even though he’s putting in an honest effort. Two, the blond seductress fills the screen with so much self-loathing in every scene she’s in that you just know things will end badly for her. She’s a wonderful example of what happens to those who compromise their morals for the greater machine. Three, early in the movie a dog sits outside a bar. Koistinen tries to stand up for it because it’s been neglected outside that bar for days. He fails. That dog pretty obviously represents Koistinen, as well as the best of citizens in this society: Loyal to a fault, even when they’re horribly mistreated. Finally, there’s the hot dog stand. A somewhat attractive woman at the hot dog stand finds herself attracted to Koistinen, somehow, even after Koistinen pathetically brags about his “girlfriend” to her. She takes care of him after he has been rejected and gotten himself drunk. She writes him a letter (which he tears up) while he’s in prison. At the end of the movie, she comes to him in the sandpit, and, in the film’s final shot, their hands embrace. Two lonely souls finally find each other after so much negativity throughout the rest of the movie. I loved it.

Takeaway for me? For starters, I have a college degree which will hopefully help me to avoid a situation where so many people so blatantly disrespect me. That degree, and the knowledge that came with it, is truly a blessing that I will try to leverage for a long time in my attempts to navigate society. Beyond that, following Koistinen’s example of putting in an honest effort just to stay alive seems to me to be an inspiration. Sometimes, you feel sorry for yourself because things aren’t exactly as you’d like them. You have to keep going. Finally, obviously, the human touch will redeem you through a whole lot. This is a theme I’ve touched on with a great many poems I’ve written. My favorite example of this comes from Milton, when Adam speaks with Raphael about how angels love in Paradise Lost (I’ll find the quote when I have a text in front of me with my notes). I believe that humans want, sometimes more than anything, to melt into someone else and share with them. We want that at our very core. This film highlights that, and for me, that makes it beautiful.

consider for a moment the strange soul
a stranger soul a stranger to —
and say to him why you have gone
to darkness in suppertime, say to him
why the winter cannot sustain you two
through to the time by the fireplace
in winter, the warmth of the fire can roast
you two together in the darkness of
post-suppertime, the two of you,
reflected through, what does he want but to be with you?

consider for a moment a walk about town,
snow cast in white along the ground,
that pierce of blue, there,
life is bright in dead cold air,
pulsing like the bleeding of a fire, blue,
burn the core of the snowbank blue
erupting like butterflies into air, stranger.

a strange soul considers for a moment.
blue butterflies fly at suppertime,
into the cracking fireplace,
where you and i sit strange.

Do I work? You bet!

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