Jack Stone's Scribbles

I wrote a poem and below is an explanation of its meaning. It is my first draft and may evolve in time.  It was half inspired by a girl I fancy while in a state of a dissonant self awareness of the psychological hard truth of it not being real and being real at the same time.  This is only a daft. (As everything is.) But please enjoy: Those things you almost promised with your eyes, but not quite. Left me on my own to die in my heart. I should know it's a waste to dream of me in a world where there's you. Even in a world where dreams come true. What I carry is heavy. Love is want. Greed is wrong. Lust is true. We love ourselves. It's a lie to say I love you. You love me means you love you. And I love you does too. What we mean is love me please. Loving you is loving me. What we see in someone else's eyes is a reflection of ourselves So look at me and see your perfect self.  We could be beautiful. Explanation: The psychologist, Jacque Lacan, said th...

Neil De Grasse Tyson once said. "If your personal beliefs deny what's objectively true about the the world, then they're more accurately called personal delusions." I believe this to be true. But I also believe it to be inescapable. N o one operates outside of some sort of delusion. We are all victims of the narratives we find ourselves in; religious, political, cultural, familial, and even ones we create just for ourselves. How can any of us really know what is "true" or how things work. Some people can only find meaning in their life by making something up, with an opinion that "I am special" or "The world is like this.. and so my duty is to do this.." And it comes with a story that justifies it. And all stories are written with an element of fantasy. Every historical account has had embellishments of some sort, some exaggeration at the least. The Romans were notorious for adding some magical thing; "Poseidon rose from the s...

Based on advice to which I opposed with plenty of passive aggression, I did a "save the cat" introduction. It might need some professional editing to really shine, but I can see benefit now. Chapter 0 – Spirits of nature. Two two-pound coins in my hand, like treasure, with their gold rims and shiny silver cores. The most satisfying of all the coins, I thought, with their heavy weight, large and flat, like the gold coins of the pirate age. They felt lucky somehow. I rubbed the coins together as I walked up Penglais hill through a light sprinkle of rain. My breath ran out quickly. It always made me feel out of shape, that hill. Four pounds. Enough for a hot pasty, and a coffee. Maybe two coffees. That's how much my budget allowed after blowing my student loan on all those pints in the Angel; four pounds a day. That's plenty, I thought. A bit of food and good coffee is all a man needs. About a third way up the hill, a man sat on some steps with a guitar...