Old Writings.

Several years back I was on one of the online dating sites.  Yes - even us artists occasionally go even more insane and think we can find true love - or true like - online.  It never worked out for me, but I did enjoy writing on the blog site of this particular dating site.  I wasn't alone.  Somehow a core of really good writers happened to come together there, and though I didn't match up in person, I found many friends I would love to have known through their writings.

Here's a little poem I posted back then:

I Seek

... a peer, a mate, a match
the One...
who'll know the wonder I've become.
a friend to see the best
in me...
and overlook the rest of me... to kiss
my neck and touch my soul, to love not parts -
but all, the whole - 
the sum of me who yearns for bliss
but all I find are words like this:

a rhyme...

and solitary time.

- Patrice Lynne Young   - around 2007 I think..

Mr. Cheddars does not care for my poetry...

  

On being moved...

I spend a great deal of time alone - and I suppose this has led to more than average (whatever average might be) forays into self examination.  These lead to finding and then poking about in ones (mine own) faults and foibles.  One of my odder tendencies is to avoid seeking out many of the things that move me and that I love.  This would appear to be a contradiction - and it is.  So why?  Here's the deal - or parts of it, I think.

I fear loss of control.

I fear my own reactions.

I'm afraid of feeling too much, being overwhelmed - and then frozen into a rather catatonic state of mind.

In the case of viewing others artwork, I sometimes fear being influenced (another sort of loss of control) or by becoming impotent/immobilized by the enormity of creating work that is relevant and relative.

I'm not saying I cannot overcome these tendencies.  Otherwise I'd probably hole up and cut myself off from all media and communication and just make stuff in a vacuum - or never make anything more.  And every time something or someone really moves me, I'm happier and grateful for the experience.

 What moves me? Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.