The Stewart Adams Project

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January 21, 2009

A Walk Through The Woods

Posted at 10:48 am

As I walked through a wooded glen, my eyesight becomes clouded for but a fraction of a second as if my optical organs are readjusting to the flickering light. The light is soft and calm as it shines through the holes in the botanical canopy that now rests above me. Tiny dust particles dance in the light with all their might as if they knew that in a moment no one would be able to see them anymore once they were moved away from the spotlight. I sit to take in the beauty of this place, my hands feel the spongy moss compress under their weight as I lower myself to the ground. My nostrils breathe in the heavy air of morning that carries with it the aroma of fresh dew. Somewhere in the distance a crow can be heard making its characteristic ‘caw’ that is painfully annoying at close range, but at this distance the sound is transformed into mellow tones that sooth and massage the eardrum. I let my eyelids lazily slide shut as the cares and worries of the world flow out of me in pristine legato. All at once the peace is shattered by an earsplitting crack louder than any thunder clap I’ve ever heard! My eyes snap open to see not only the source of the enormous sounds but also the cause of my eminent doom. For a brief moment time seems to slow…I can feel the dampness of the ground under me as I look to the left of my current position. There, just ten feet away lies safety…a patch of earth no different than the one I currently occupy save in one respect, the oncoming danger will not strike on that spot. I stare longingly at this area on the forest floor but with a sunken heart for I know that I cannot relocate myself in time to avoid the impending destruction of my mortal body. In my last remaining nanoseconds, I let out a scream that is silenced by the massive oak tree coming to its resting place atop my crushed anatomy. No amount of legislation could save me, no hard hats or OSHA safety standards could have prevented this tragedy. No seatbelts, bullet proof vests, trigger guards or handrails could have come to my aide. Death is a part of life, and sometimes trees just fall on people…and crush them into the ground.

Stewart

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January 14, 2009

Writer’s Block

Posted at 9:44 am

As I sit looking at a blank white canvas, I am forcing my fingers to type. There are times when the creative juices of literary genius are flowing and one can write page upon page of unique and entertaining language….now is not one of those times. Yes my friends, I am suffering from a chronic case of writer’s block the likes of which have yet to be observed in the entire timeline of human experience! Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, the point is that I’m having trouble getting the words out yet I am compelled by something in my psyche that must find a creative outlet. What could be the reason for this mental seizure? Perhaps it’s the fact that I am sick with a cold and would much rather be sleeping. Maybe it’s because I’m hopped up on meds to reduce the effects of my cold. Yet another possible theory could be the subconscious realization that nobody reads this blog anyway and it is both uninteresting and loaded with the most grotesque attempts at creativity that are inherently offensive to the human mind…but that option is depressing so we will not dwell on it.

In school I was always told to just write whatever comes to my head when experiencing writer’s block. The result was that many of my essays started with the sentence “I don’t know what to write.” eventually followed up by “This paper is stupid.” Over my creative writing career, I began to grow and branch out in my use of language and the result was an extreme improvement over the dullness of my former compositions. Essays started more like “I am suffering from a deplorable lack of mental inspiration and thus am sitting with pen in hand not being conscious or aware of what prose to bestow upon this writing tablet.” Eventually being followed up with, “This assignment is the most detestable piece of literary rubbish ever conceived by the thoughts of mankind.” The only problem is that the content of my writing never changed in these instances. I did find that taking the day off, eating ice cream and watching movies greatly increased my ability to overcome writer’s block…funny how I never got the block except when I was trying to write.

Stewart

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January 7, 2009

New Years

Posted at 3:34 pm

Same old Stewart.
Same old blog.
Same old conundrums.
Brand new year.

I never have quite understood the excitement and pizazz that comes with the celebration of a new year. Unlike every other legitimate holiday, there is no particular significance or meaning behind the occasion rather than the fact that we’ve successfully completed another rotation around the sun and are right back where we were the year before. New years is a date on a calendar and little else, yet we as a society make pilgrimages to major cities to stay up until mid-night (or way past mid-night in some cases), party, drink, and watch a large object drop down the side of a building. What makes January 1 so special? Why don’t we celebrate a “median of the year day”? or “1/4 Year Day.” Even fake holidays like ‘Pi Day’ and ‘Talk Like a Pirate Day’ have social and cultural meaning, but New Years only exists on January 1 because whoever made the calendar decided that the earth year would start at that position in the solar system.

I suppose you could tie in religion to New Years, but only if you’re a cosmic pantheist – and as we all know, Cosmic Pantheistic holidays aren’t usually very popular among the grown-up of society. New years could possibly be a celebration that you’ve lived to see another year…oh wait, that’s what birthdays are for. New Years is a dumb holiday.

Stewart

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