Writing by Hand

Writing by hand
at The Roost,
I counted twelve laptops,
and noted it down
with this everyday pen
and cheap notebook.

Writing by hand
is fun.
I enjoy it more than
typing on a computer.
I like sometimes
misspelling a word
and not having
an instant correction.
It takes some of
the professionalism
out of art
and life.

I'm not against technology either.
I will probably type this up
for publication on my blog.

I like using computers,
and tablets,
and the internet.
I've made some things
I couldn't have made
any other way.

Actually,
pens and writing
are also technologies,
just much older.

Mostly what I am saying
is that different tools
can do different things,
that there is a use and a feeling
you might get out of
whatever you have at hand to
make stuff with.

But it is funny,
something about all the
expensive laptops,
vs my cheap pen and paper.

Probably pens
were an amazing
cutting edge thing
at one point,
but now you can get a dozen
for a dollar
at a surplus store.

I don't think their creative
usefulness has diminished though.
We've just become used to them.


-Jim DuBois
Feb 18, 2012

Now when it rains

Now when it rains,
you can't drive me home


-Jim DuBois
April 3, 2012

I caught a firefly tonight

I caught a firefly tonight
and it reminded me of you
then it climbed out of my hands
and flew away into the darkness


-Jim DuBois
June 28 2012

two people

Sometimes it's just
two people
building a little boat of love
to stay afloat
in the chaotic universe

Sometimes it's just
two people
not lovers
not perfect friends
but close enough to matter

Sometimes it's just
two people,
even though
they wished for more,
and two will work

Sometimes it's just
two people
two ordinary people
two imperfect people
two good people.


-Jim DuBois
Jan 5, 2007

but sometimes

We can't talk
but sometimes
we can dance


-Jim DuBois
May 30, 2006

where he had buried his name

_________ returned
to the forest spot
where he had
buried his name
in anger,
before he had gone
into the mortal world
in search of battle
and redemption,
and the forest
had fallen in
upon that burial spot,
closed the paths,
made it hard
to get to,
but he pushed through
the thorn bushes,
and stepped around
the fallen logs,
and retrieved his name,
and no one
has set foot
there ever again.


-Jim DuBois
Sep 25, 2013

The days pass by

The days pass by
  like lovers
    and old friends,

Unfolding in ways you didn't expect,
  and turning into memories
    before you can grasp them


-Jim DuBois
July 20, 1998