Bright Nights and Blurred Days

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

I’ve decided to share with you something I’ve been working on for quite a while. It’s an interesting, pseudo-autobiographical (and isn’t all writing) novel/novella/short story tentatively titled Bright Nights and Blurred Days. I have prepared paragraph I of Book I today. I’m not quite sure if/how I will expand this, but I’ve got a few chapters written already, and I really like where it is going. I also think it’s best to be cocky about one’s writing, because if you don’t like it, why should anyone else. So I hope you all enjoy it because it’s damned amazing.

I jest. It’s not much, but it is the truest thing I know. Here it is:

It didn’t burn as it used to. It used to be quite the struggle suppressing the cringe and disgust whenever it occurred or whenever he even thought about it. Now, everything was beginning to become as though things were all going to be okay. Not to mention everyone around him began to have more and more to say, with stupider connotations then they did at the start of the night. But he didn’t care at this point. It was pouring outside. Rain hit the window occasionally. Water was beginning to pool up under the desk in the corner of the apartment. It would eventually become a nuisance. He’d deal with it later. He was, of course, just saying that because he was at the point where he realized that he wouldn’t deal with it. He’d let someone else deal with it. He decided that that someone else he was going to let deal with it was still himself… but himself later. Not while there are people here. It’s going to pool up again. Better to just take care of his problems all at once. Let ’em grow to a monstrous size. He chuckled at the ridiculousness of this whole damn thought process.

I’m glad I finally shared that with someone. Well, I’ve shared it with pretty much everyone by publishing here, but what good is writing if it can’t be shared?

Anyway, I’ve also made a few upgrades/updates to the site. And of course, I’ll be writing more frequently.

Cheers,

Scott

Back in 5, 4, 3, 2,

It’s been a while.

 

Almost ready to start writing again.

Maybe some new stuff this week?

 

So, I’m debating on what to write about.

Observations, musings, stories…

Rants maybe? Anyway…

Read the first letter of each line.

Yep, those are my feeling about my prolonged absence.

 

 

in which

In which:

in which a man is born in which a man makes a man’s first decision

in which a man learns to speak in which man soon comes to understand language and words

in which a man uses words 

in which a man first uses words to hurt those he hates, and heal those he loves

in which a man first uses words to hurt those he loves

in which a man first feels the sting of disappointment,

and in which man first forgets

in which a man falls in love

in which a man falls in love

in which a man falls in love

in which man trips in love and in which man is caught by arms

in which man is finally let go

in which he falls

in which he

Beyond “Beyond a Reasonable Doubt”

To digress from happiness is not exactly the worst thing for one’s health. Be truly deeply sad, maybe once or twice, just to feel the way that happiness is different. Slow down our emotions, analyze

the pain, revel in anguish; it makes you appreciate the way you feel

joy…

Why hello beautiful. You’re looking lovely, as always. Yes dear, I have been away for a few months, but I’m back. At least for tonight I am. And hopefully I’ll stick around, but who knows. All I can say for sure is that, amidst the swirling chaos that is college work and college social life, sometimes you’ve got to take a step back and create space between yourself and the real world. The way I do that is through writing. It’s almost like a conversation with myself (in, of course, the least creepy/psychologically unstable way possible), where I’m able to analyze my situation, or some event, or whatever is on my mind. And my mind is buckling under the weight of society (why are we STILL discussing marriage equality), personal intrigue (hopefully I’ll declare a major soon…), and life in general (insert blasé intellectual argument about how life is simply purgatory, or that the meaning of existence is somehow predicated by how many words starting with vowels one has read).

But today, the phrase resting atop my mental tableau is one of legal origin; the idea of something being “beyond a reasonable doubt.” The fact that the phrase itself is up to personal interpretation (reasonable according to who?)is moot; in the courtroom, it can be the difference between life and death, paternity, financial restitution, etc. Recently I’ve theorized about what it would be like to apply it to everyday life. After all, if it’s the entire basis upon which we can literally be judged upon, who is to say that there’s no application in real life for acting and thinking beyond reasonable doubts.

Living beyond a reasonable doubt can mean that you leave nothing to chance. That any situation you could possibly find yourself in, you’ve already planned out the twenty thousand ways it would play out (save alien abduction and any other unreasonable happenstance). It means looking at things in absolutes; black and white only.

I live beyond reasonable doubts. However, that’s something I want to change, and something I hope to emerge from changed and stronger. I live in my own head; I review and I plan, but I don’t act enough. I want to explore that grey between the black and white. There is much to be found lingering between what is, and what can be.

There are things that live in the world beyond beyond a reasonable doubt, things that have no evidence explaining their existence and their influence, but things that exist and influence nevertheless. That first sip of a cool drink after a tough day. A gut reaction that something is wrong, or the complete and utter contentment spawned from an arbitrary smile from a friend. Falling head over heels for someone you don’t know, or waking up to realize that someone you do know isn’t who you thought they were. A single glimmer of hope that you allow to live in a situation where you know there is none.

The essential problem is rationality and living beyond doubt don’t go together. Of course, to charge in to situations without weighing options is never advisable, but why the hell not live with doubt every once and a while? Once their made, don’t doubt choices, but don’t let doubt influence choices. Live beyond beyond a reasonable doubt; and don’t doubt your decision to do so.

Now if only I would follow my own advice…

“War is not won by victory.”

“War is not won by victory.”

A very simple quote from my most admired author, Ernest Hemingway. Today being September 11th, 2012, this statement is still shockingly true. Beyond that though, Hemingway did not reach far enough. To amend Hemingway’s statement:

“‘War is not won by victory.’ It can never be won, and the only foe of war is time.”

You see, we will never be the nation that we were on September 10th, 2001. We can talk about returning to those times, but when a Boeing 767 launched into the World Trade Center, the United States ended not only its longest ever period of enjoyed shelter from domestic attacks, but also began a fundamental shift in its policy. There exists two losses that occurred on September 11th, each equally as devastating to the American spirit: The loss of life, and the loss of innocence. 

2,977. 2,977. It’s an abysmal number. A series of digets should not, in actuality have such an emotional effect on any person. Yet, we are left with 2,977. I speak not of course of the 19 hijackers, as that would be doing the 2,977 a disservice. 2,977 Americans woke up… No, 2,977 people woke up, went to work, and stopped being people by 10am on September 11th, 2001. Yes, it is equally as tragic to look at the estimated 108,595 people who are injured or no longer living due to the actions of terrorists or even US forces. But here is the central difference: 2,977 were intentionally targeted because they were innocent Americans in order to hurt other innocent Americans. We mourn the 2,977, we mourn the hundred-thousand others, and we grieve because we say war is senseless. We, as a human race, are not smart enough to figure out a better way than war. War is the best thing that we have to deal with these problems.

And then, there is the personal loss of freedom. Americans can no longer bring a water bottle on an airplane. Understandable, as you trade some rights to use their services. But to walk down the streets of New York and feel unsafe is unacceptable. To have last years moment of mourning tainted by threats of retaliation is an unavoidable tragedy. It’s all tragedy. And only time can fix it. 

Time is our best friend and worst enemy. September 11th, 2002, we were be sitting in fear and peril of a repeat performance. 2012, that peril is sadly still there, but we forge on. We accept the harsh realities that those 2,977 are gone. That they now stand for something greater. That we need to be scanned at the airport. That a backpack in the middle of the street is now suspicious. But, to quote Hemingway once more: “Once we have a war there is only one thing to do. It must be won. For defeat brings worse things than any that can ever happen in war.” 

Yes, OBL is dead. To quote Twain: “I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.”There was great celebration. People were happy and singing and it was quite a beautiful night. And in the morning that feeling carried over. And then time attacked. We soon were wrapped in the controversy of the “death photos.” People realized that cutting off the serpent’s head doesn’t always kill it. Just as, on September 12th, 2002, we felt American camaraderie amongst ourselves, so too does that memory fade.

 

So, on September 11th, 2012, I beg of everyone; do not let time win every battle. Do not let this day just be another in the calendar. When you inevitably stop and pause and look around, and notice that things are not normal today, and that people are closer and simultaneously more distant and lost in thought, capture that, and bring it into September 12th, 2012, and so on. Let time dull the pain of loss. But do not let time change the rights and the mindset of the American people.

 

May reason, peace, and freedom prevail over all foes.

 

S.H.G.

186th of 2012

Here comes the incredibly patriotic blog!

So it’s been a while since I’ve last updated, and for good reason; I’ve been hard at work at Camp. Not only do I care for a group of nine 11 year olds, but I’m also the assistant director at the playhouse. Which means a whole lot of work, and not a lot of free time. Which I’m fine with. And of course, amidst all this, I’ve got pre-college work to do, and friends to stay in contact with, and whatever duties will inevitably pop up over the course of the next few weeks.

 

But that’s not why I started this. Every year, on the 4th of July, I usually type out a paragraph or two describing my feeling for the country. And I figured, if I’m writing, it might as well be on the blog. Thus, we have our diatribe.

 

It’s always fascinating to me to view how America looks on July 4th. Today, as we gathered around the flagpole, I viewed a sea of red, white and blue. And whilst I looked at the flag being raised; that banner flying in front of the lake catching the early morning sun, I caught the jingoistic feeling described as American Patriotism. This opened the path for a simple, yet powerful sentence to crawl through my head: “In America”

In America we have people wearing Patriots and Giants jerseys today, arguing about the merits of their teams, yet both of their original intent’s to wear those jerseys were to represent their country. In America we have this culture that allows us to absolutely ridicule our elected officials, yet, regardless of what happens, still believe in the dream, and still persevere. In America we have blog posts such as this, and other blogs that preach anti-democratic and anarchic governance. 

Today is not the day to point out the (admittedly serious) problems that face our country in the short and long term. Today is a day to feel a connection with a complete stranger, or someone across party lines, and to recognize, regardless of your backgrounds, your beliefs, and other differences, you not only inhabit the same stretch of land, but the same core ideas; ideas which were tweaked from Ancient Greece to today. 

Yes, in this day and age, we are citizens of the world. We care for other countries, we intervene, our economies are intertwined. But let us not forget that we are all fortunate enough to BE in the situation to help others. So put aside all squabbles over healthcare, Obama, Romney, Iraq, Iran, Israel, Europe. They can wait until tomorrow. Today, regardless of their race, belief, orientation, or politics, let’s just all appreciate the fact that we are American.

Train Bloggin’ (In Medias Res)

It’s very rare to actually get the full impact of a situation in medias res. It’s also quite hard to start writing in the middle of a thought. But I’ll attempt it.
I’m going through a lot of changes in my life, but the full impact of a graduate lifestyle has yet to be felt on my end. I have these little moments of “oh $h!&, I’m an adult”, like today, as I took the taxi alone to Penn to ride a train alone, but still, no big “viola” moment.
I said goodbye to a group of friends who have been there for me these past few years. I don’t know who I will and won’t see again. And of course, absence makes the heart grows fonder. I’m already missing those stupid little dinners, the group texts, the random screams I heard echoing through the City this evening. As I ride away from it all on a train. I leave that part, that, in hindsight, lovely, rose colored part behind. Now, getting a small taste of what could be and then leaving it behind leaves one with a bitter mouth. So you’ll excuse me if I come across as jaded. But theres no damned thing as a proper goodbye. And there’s no way to express how much these people have done. And all people. To paraphrase Hemingway, “God knows I didn’t mean to fall in love with them.” I didn’t set out to create bonds almost impossible to break. Didn’t intend to become dependent on him too much, or to fall for her too late, or to feel for three of them too deeply, to discuss the two of them too frequently, or to remember all of them too fondly. No, I set out to drift through. Either it was by instinct, or just happenstance, but I found myself entangled in their problems, engaging in their issues, and committed to their happiness. And I wouldn’t have it another way. Be it the new ones, or the old, I’m baffled by how hard these 5 days have been.
And as the old man sitting across from me leafs through his copy of the Post, I instinctively wonder if he’s had these thoughts. I wonder about his life. Why he’s on this train alone. It can’t be business, as his poorly hemmed pants, grey socks pulled all the way up to his groin (or so I assume), and his canvas shoes are all tip off’s of an anti establishment man. But of course, none of us care about TrainMan. I try to pretend I do, but he’s just someone passing through. But here’s to you TrainMan; you wear your Calvin Klein Polo, and carry your souvenir bag from what I assume is the Intrepid. Return to your life, and live on. I don’t want to be TrainMan. I really don’t. Spending Wednesday night alone, on a train from 10-12, reading the advertisements in the paper. No, TrainMan isn’t the life for yours truly.
Wow, that was a tangent. But to continue, it really just makes my blood boil that these monumental moments in my life are passing by, and all I can do is sit by and smile in hindsight. There are a lot of “I should have’s” in my life right now, but that’s expected. It’s near impossible to picture the “I’m going to’s” in the near future. But I’m living day by day. Keep your head in the past; you can’t tell where you’re going, Stick it out to the future; you won’t realize where you’ve been.
And so, I’m going to live in the present, and stop this, and talk to my friends.

Rising Star 2012 (Note to the Cast)

I’m going to attempt to put this into words, but honestly, no verbiage can express how happy, proud, and simply in awe I am at the moment.
You are all some of the most talent people I’ve ever had the honor of working on stage with. I had my doubts after last years seniors left, but as soon as we hit the month of February, all of them had vanished. Freshman and sophomores; your undying commitment to the program and sunny attitude at rehearsal each day was something I was quite envious of. You took an enormous amount of work with ease, and for the life of me, I have no idea how you managed that without a single complaint. You’ve all done certain things, whether you know it or not, that have changed me as an actor, and a person. I am proud to call you my cast mates, colleagues, amd friends. Juniors; I’ve gotten to know you so well over these past three years, and I’m happy to know we are leaving the program in good hands. Our time together may have been cut a year short, but I think of all of you as peers and reliable friends. Maddie and Pilar, the above goes ditto for you, but I would be remiss if I didn’t add how amazing the two of you are. Seriously, your responsibility, grace under pressure, and overall commitment to us all often goes without thanks, but know from the bottom of my heart I appreciate what you do every day. And you are as much a part of this award and show as any of us, if not more. To the seniors: I know you all too well to put down on this silly message, and I hope you know how much I love and respect you all. Savannah: Seeing you eat carbs was perhaps the single greatest experience of my life, second only to watching you perform. Sophie: Even whilst doing the nun’s house impression, you bring your charm and talent to the stage whenever you step on it. Ali: I like you this year, and l’m coming to NYU to watch you perform, because it makes makes me so happy to see you having the time of your life. And no, I won’t write your essay. Daniel: From Earnest on, our time in both the musicals and the dramas have been deeply cherished, and I know I can always count on you as a friend and mentor. And Jasen: I’ve said so much to you, you’ve done so much for me. I can’t even fit it here. A great boy, witch I can speak no more of.

Anyway, as the year comes to a close, and I slowly become a memory in the theater (but bet your asses I’ll be back to visit), I have a few words of advice, that apply to both life on and off stage.

Never get discouraged: Be it in trying to hit a note, academia, or just life in general. Trust me, I’ve been there, and staying positive is much more rewarding.
You’ve got friends: The theater is a cult. Excuse me… The theater is a very close knit group. You have a web of support ranging from freshman to seniors. And they are there for you.
Make a new friend: Especially the new freshman. I’m gonna be blunt, I hated my first 1 and a half years of theater at Gill. The shows were amazing, and I loved performing, but the seniors were hostile. And maybe that’s my fault a little bit. Which brings me to…
Don’t be afraid to be yourself: Any of the seniors can tell you how different I used to be. It’s because back then, I tried to hard, and tried to become something that I wasn’t.
Don’t do stupid shit: It’s very simple. If it seems really stupid, it probably is.
Thank your parents: This post is for you guys, but they’re the backbone of the department. Give them a hug for me.
Cherish your time at the theater: It goes by damned fast.

So, to everyone that’s made it this far: thank you. And keep the hell in touch! If any of you ever, ever, find yourself in a situation where you need me, call. I’ll be there.

Scott Geldzahler

Being Classy

It’s always been a life goal of mine to be a real gentleman. Not 24/7, but just, y’know a step above the average Joe in terms of class.
Now I’m not talking class as in “oh, yes, indeed, quite.” No, this is being a 1920’s gentleman. A 1920’s gentleman who greets people with a hearty “how the hell are ya,” used the word “damned” a damned plenty amount, and a guy who people respect the hell out of. Obviously in today’s world, that’s impossible. The culture isn’t the same. But I try.
The key to being a 1920’s gentleman is that, under the hard exterior, one must actually be deep. Which I have no problem with.
Remember when I said earlier that I would explain why a lack of hope isn’t such a bad thing? No? Well sorry, because here’s the explanation:

Think of it this way; it’s a delusion. Hope is just a word, invented for those who don’t take action. Oh, you can sit and hope all day, but at the end of the day, the only accomplishment you’ll have is a warm couch. There are many ills in the world, but hoping at them isn’t going to make them go away. And once you free yourself from that illusion, you enter a paradoxical state of simultaneous existential depression and motivated grandeur. You realize that life is not short (in fact it’s the longest thing you’ll do). It’s a hollow existence. And you’re in that state for a time, until you realize that there are people, and words that express meaning, and that we’re biologically made a way that makes us think, and then you think about the amazing concept of actually thinking, and the world becomes a little different. It becomes brighter, more colorful. The stupid people become louder, the smart people become more and more correct. The dull grey haze is still there, it always will be. But in the void that hope left, there is now meaning, that you project onto things. You see the world as your own architect. Your pain, as inconsequential as it may be, can be seen in everything, yet everything can be discounted, as it’s up to you what you decide. This isn’t to say others don’t have an effect; your emotions are nowhere near dead. Mine aren’t, hence the fact that I’m able to write this. Quite the opposite. They are enhanced.

I digress from the above deep sentiments that I laid out, because, as stated earlier, I’m not from the 20’s. How can I be? I don’t think I’m broken. And that’s the best part. Because I’ve got a modernist philosophy with a 21st century humanist spin. And I’m still young. Maybe I’ll have time to grow out that mustache, buy a few more suits, and be a damned gentleman.

Selected Poetry/Prose

Innocence

Where did you go?
It seemed like yesterday we were on better terms.
Now I can’t speak to you. Even if I wanted to.
At younger times you were here, covering me. The world was there, knocking at the door. Ready to burst through. Hinges shaking, house quaking. Now you’re gone, and the world is snaking, slowly breaking my wall of faking.
But you were there once. I remember you. You were the lamp, the blankets, the stories.
And then I met time. Time did for me what you couldn’t. Time made me a person. Time made me real. And strangely, time made me happy.
I still bump into you every now and again. It’s never the same, there’s an unspoken distance between us, and our encounters always end badly. But you’ve changed me. Prepared me for time.

Seclusion

Sitting away from it all. It changes a man.
Away from the constricting pressures.
No scheme needed, no meter heeded; It makes a man think.
But no one can be secluded forever.

Apart

The feeling of not being able to communicate is crushing. Waiting and waiting to speak, indecision of what to say, as no words can explain, no explanation can expose, and no exposition can be put to words.
The feeling of not being able to speak has surprised me. The absence of words has just as much meaning as words, but only things said can accomplish what should be unspoken.
The feeling of absence has changed me. The positive has yet to be uncovered, and even when life throws a curve ball, the feeling of validation is sly, and won’t drown, even if there’s no strength left.
The time, the people, the chatter;
it all sets us apart,
together.