I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Month: August 2023
it must be observed
to be felt
uncertain arrival
you do not notice
until you do
infrequently unfortunately
tucked into the chaos
and global squalor
it comes to you
from time to time
often when
you need it the most
remind yourself
peace is important
acknowledge what you can
when you can
however you can
reposition your
disposition
08/25/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on August 24, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
This country, this continent, is on fire; flames raging across this world.
Then there are the floods, hurricanes, and drought. Climate change, man-made or not, occurs naturally.
It happens.
All the debate over toxic waste and today millions of tons of treated radioactive wastewater was released into an ocean on the other side of this planet, compounding our fears over all things nuclear.
The wars we know, out of control, loss of life the daily news; the politics of it all.
The tsunami of these events, destruction and devastation, leading us closer to an end we are uncertain of. But we know it will come.
Salvation now, as it has always been, is far more than a dream.
How can we hope for better after decades of trying to avoid it all?
08/24/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on August 23, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
I have been working from memory these past few days. Not the random access memory built into my once-trusty laptop, but the dates, details, and descriptions folded into the crevices of my mind.
It is a daunting task, brought on by a recent technological issue.
I have a project I’ve been working on for about a decade. Not all the time, mind you, it is a manuscript I have fiddled with when the mood (or muse) moves me. It’s one of those projects you dip back into when nothing else is inspiring, or a random thought takes over.
I work on this story when I can, or at least when I could: until recently.
Last summer I purchased a new desktop computer with an obscene amount of RAM and a glorious large monitor. At the time I transferred over a number of manuscripts and information related to projects I have on the go.
With the new desktop, my writing routine changed. I became more grounded.
I no longer took my laptop with me for my coffee and writing sessions at the local coffee shop, but only carried a notebook and pencils to jot down thoughts, or poems, as they occurred.
I began doing my serious writing (or editing) in the comfort of my home office with that magnificent monitor.
Only recently, when one of those random thoughts occurred, I realized this one decade-old project did not make the transfer to my desktop.
Even worse, I discovered – perhaps through lack of use or recharge – my laptop had seized up to the point where a trip to the Apple repair depot was involved. It was then discovered that my laptop’s hard drive was “fried” (yes, that’s the exact technical term word the technician used).
I can’t tell you my disappointment.
I thought, or believed, I had almost brought this story to the point where it was completed, or completely readable. And it was now lost forever (and, as Price once said “that’s a mighty long time”).
The only version of this particular story that I now have is a version that an editor had gone through a few years back. In the years that followed this review, I had acted on some of the editor’s suggestions, rethought characters, motives and events, and introduced new elements to make the work stronger than before.
All this additional work had been done over time, as I was moved, and when I took a break from one of the many projects I seem to have on the go.
All that additional work is now lost.
I can’t even describe my frustration or the depth of my thoughts.
Last week, I even took a few days off my writing to think of this mess I had gotten myself into. I could blame the computer all I wanted, but the true fault sat squarely on my shoulders.
I had not been diligent enough when transferring data to the new computer. I had not been careful enough to ensure my work was saved. I had put too much trust into the technology and not enough trust in my habits.
Over the past week I have searched the cloud, searched an even older laptop, and scoured through random notebooks looking for those critical pieces I had added to the story at one time. While I found a few of the immediate pieces, it was not all that I needed to keep moving this story forward.
I now have to trust my memory; the only memory I can count on.
I’ve always thought I had a good recall, but it is now being put to the test.
In the process of reconstructing this story, I am now examining the style, the voice, the details and descriptions to make the work stronger than it was. I need to make it the best work it can be.
I cannot think about the hours and words lost in the mishap (more than unfortunate and not quite devastating), I can only work in the now and find the words to allow this story the trajectory it needs to see me through completion
I have to count on my memory in the present to get past all of this.
My state of mind, lately, has been a little off. Maybe this is what I need to get me thinking constructively again.
Hopefully, soon, this will only be a memory.
© 2023 j.g. lewis
