This is your page. This page will share your contributions. These can be videos, spoken word, written poetry or whatever you want it to be. If you’re a visual artist, you may want to display pictures or a slideshow of your art.This is a freedom of speech, creative and artistic nest where you break out any time you want and fly, dude, fly, just like Freebird!
The prospect of creating a digital, art-centered community thrills me. It’s happening all over Social Network Island. As one who came of age during the Sixties, you know the “Commune Age,” I see the immense prospect and potential of Social Networking becoming this generation’s “Digital Commune.” Just think of how many more people can become a part of this community, linked by cultural diversity, very differentiated experiences, language, and our internalized oneness; never before has this kind of potential been available. It can be used abusively and tyrannically, but it can also be used for peace, oneness, discovering other cultures and values, and social education.
This is why I’ve been encouraging folks to contribute their artful or ideological expressions. This page is about free speech, free expression, and Free Bird flying high unhindered by the rules, anachronisms and conformity of the day! If you want to submit a piece of your own, personal cultural and artistic expression, please send your submission to Bear at firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com, and I’ll make sure it gets put up on the site. There are no strict guidelines for submission, and if it appears something may be a problem, let’s talk about it. You know, ‘let’s talk among ourselves’ (say this with a good, robust New York City accent, OK?) The only thing I would ask is that if don’t want your work to be public domain, let me know that ahead of time, and please copywrite all of your work.
Our first contributor is multi-gifted in her artistic and creative competencies: she’s a jazz singer, song-writer, musician (guitar and fiddle), poet, spoken word performer, a collaborator with other artists on various projects such as video-creation, the back stage arts of editing and styling for video, and a monologist. I’m so glad she decided to contribute some of her work. She is Christina Jackson, and her piece is entitled: The Ghost Monologue
The Ghost Monologue
I know what you’re thinking. If that’s my body in that mahogany box, and my name on that head stone, what the hell am I doing here right in front of you? BOO! *laughs briefly* Ghost humor; nobody gets us. I guess that’s one thing we have in common, the lively and the… after lively. We can hear each other’s stories and ask how things are going- when we’re actually listening, that is- but nobody really gets me, and nobody really gets you.
I mean, I can go anywhere. I can see anything, yet, here I am still in this small boring smelly town. You must be wondering why I’m here if I can haunt the men’s locker room at the Y, I can go to the Grand Canyon, I can spy on people I remember from highschool, like Keel Kighner. Ah, Keel. But the truth is, it’s not that easy… and now I’m stuck. You only get that kind of fun in the afterlife if all precious earthly duties are tended to and… I didn’t make the list. Now I’m stuck in Grandfalls, TX. Population 583 last I heard, well, 582 now. I’ve been dying to get out of here since I was a little girl. I got so sick of being the only kid in town who didn’t go to church; the only girl who didn’t have to get married before heading off to college. Hell, the only girl who wanted to go to college.
By the time I was 25, all that was sorted out for me. I needed to save a little bit of cash for college so I got a job workin’ at my uncle’s diner, putting my college dreams aside for a year, then what’s another six months, and another. I never got married either. Never even been engaged. I didn’t need it, bein’ the independent type and all. Keel and I had quit dating shortly after highschool. He’s married now. Three kids. All girls, like I used to picture for us, but of course I’d never tell him. I wanted kids and a family someday, but I had plans of studying music in the capital city, living the college life, one day teaching kids music and getting my own name out there.
Before the accident, I thought if I just got some money together, quit my job and left this town, my life would be waiting for me. My life would be ready! I could finally start something of my own. No more working my tail off in the family business. No more driving hours away to Austin just to hear live music. No more small town gossip about how I was too old to be single and my life was already over; a poor spinster at twenty-eight. *last line said sarcastically*
But whatcha gonna do, but keep on living? *lets out a chuckle* Too late now. I didn’t think visiting my own funeral and seeing my own plot would be so hard. Watching my mother’s face turn red and seeing her hands fill with soggy tissues sure doesn’t help. I almost thought my family would be happy that I’ve gone on to better things, finally seeing the world and maybe the things I always said I would; well, theoretically. *previous line said gingerly* If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some *sigh* business to do.
© Christina Jackson August, 2013