Sean Taylor's Blog, page 5

The promise and the pain

I love that this video brings tears to my eyes. 

On Tuesday, May 2nd, hopefully I’ll hear this song cool a crowd of hot heads not unlike my own. 

I’ve wondered if a singular idea could ever be presented in a number of mediums at the same time in the same place? And then I’ve wondered if we would get lost in it.
Would we get lost in meaning like we get lost in those halls of mirrors at carnivals and state fairs?

I mean I get so lost in this video. So lost. And I think the singular idea might be ca...

What do you want, was never answered.

    He placed the two longest fingers of her left hand on her inner right wrist. This is how you check your pulse, he said to her. She blinked twice with almond brown eyes. It was overwhelming, she told him. You should try to stretch more. He put his fingers in the cups behind his knees and stayed in a crouch so that he was always within her eye level. I have no idea what to do about this.
    There is a laugh that she has been waiting for all week.
    Fridays are the most difficult for me.

I K...

Denial becomes a spectator sport when you go pro.

Covering Spell Eternity on Friday, I'm not going to lie, it looks odd, but review practice is review practice and hell getting out of my comfort zone sounds comfortable right about now. Some songs are the places I've got to be.

This is where she keeps a patient hand on her inner canary.

A couple of months ago I was incredibly fortunate to cover a character from San Francisco's SpeakEasy as a collaboration with some other bay area writers. Click here to check it out!
Also apparently last night I had a fair amount to drink and tried to write a song.
What's next?!?!?!?!?!?

Bad songwriting or bad Poetry?

    A missing black stain by the coffee machine was the last thing I wanted to see.
I didn't get her name but I always stopped at the same cafe on my way through.
It’s eight hundred fifty-eight miles from LA to Santa Fe, and I’ve never been too late.
I asked her once about the bites on her arms,
and she tells me that around here the mosquitos don’t know when to quit.
So I spent my breaks smoking cigarettes and blowing smoke under the awning where they gather,
in hopes of scaring them away. 

There’s...

Sleep with all the lights on, you're not so happy, you're not secure.

“Indeed the gentlemen of the jury will take note of the fact. And they will conclude that a stranger may offer a cup of coffee, but that beside the body of the one who brought him into the world, a son should have refused it.”

Don’t get me started on the cultural norms that this passage pushes.

I could be wrong, but I believe that this is the first instance of his use of the word ‘stranger,’ in the novel.

Is Camus winding us up in this infinite web of personal perspectives and possibilities as h...

No closer to any kind of truth.

Day off shall be spent as thus: morning hike with Death Cab For Cutie, afternoon lunch reading Camus amidst baseball, exploration of downtown Oakland bars with more Camus, then covering Overnight (a three act play, each act of Overnight follows a different set of characters responding to a single event: the overnight transformation of a parking lot into a high-rise) at FlightDeck for TheaterStorm. Come home, drink whiskey, write review.
I'd say that's a day well spent.

All the space on the page

I love the part of me that is sincerely interested in besting chapter three.

Somewhere inside of me there is a department that decided it’s a good idea to chase a pinhole of light through a five thousand word tunnel in hopes of creating moments that can be celebrated as new and unique syntax equations. 

I’m not sure where it lies in the realm of Sean, but it’s there.

I can't say, "now."

Late at night she calls hotlines to debate translation inconsistencies on microwave times for her newborn's formula.

I love that there is a woman somewhere that speaks more languages than anyone else, and yet, she is still a mother first.

I would never write about her developing a stutter, and it threatening her career, or the events that lead up to her insuring her tongue for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I want to consider the hours of her maternity leave that she spent trying to learn the...

When your party favors don't do your party any favors.

He asked me if I was here alone, I told him, in the city center, to look around, we were surrounded by people. But did you come here alone? I took the bus, I told him, it was full of people. Did you know any of them, though? If I’m honest I think I might have. I locked eyes with an infant, he must have been less than six months. We spoke for what seemed like days in a combination of silly faces. It was a wealth of misgivings, this language, more pleasant than I ever imagined it would be.

It be...