I was in Rehab, Now I'm back

I want to let you all know that I'm no longer homeless. I want to tell you the story of beauty that life has once again shown me. I want to update you on my health, my medical conditions, and the medicinal remedies that are shifting my moods, attitudes, and the creativity that propels me into these blog posts and podcasts.

I want to write.

I want to tell you all about everything.

I'm afraid I'm suffering from writer's block. The last time I had writer's block it lasted over a decade.

Chopin has been my movement. Solitude has been my peace. You have been my motivation. What does one do?

I believe I should be traveling the country, the world, reviewing local shops, meeting new souls, having adventures and sharing them with you. Sober, yes, sober.

I have a brother who will make this journey complete. I have been encountering many people who are awake or in the process of waking up from a sleepwalk full of lies, full of pain, full of confusion. Let's pray that Warner Bailey becomes the movement to move hundreds of thousands into an infinity of change. Let's see the real world. Let's be rid of the lies we've been fed.

There's nothing to fear. We are all capable of living our best lives. I will share how through blogging, podcasting, filmmaking, music production, and street art (I'll find a better name for this. Lol.)

I'd ask you to join but you already have.

How Ass is My Behind?

I've got some great titles for a few unfinished pieces, mainly blog posts and business reviews, "Where the Wild Things Are", "The 3rd Year was the Worst", and "Catch Up!" are a few.
As I sit in my van on a side street of Encino, next to the freeway, I welcome the disappearance of the sun and the cool air that comes along with. I just ingested a half of a Xanax, ate a Cup of Noodle mixed with part of a can of Hot Dog Chilli from the Dollar Tree, and am sipping slowly on my famous Big Gulp Cup filled with ice and watered down Coco-Nut-Rita. Chopin plays in the background while the town's people go inside closed doors to rest before Monday arrives and brings a new week of monotony for their poor souls to envelop. Life is kind to me, I am at peace. I continue typing, hoping to excrete something worth reading, hoping not to pass out from the benzodiazepine that will surely take over firstly my feet, then my legs, with the rest of my body following, I wonder which will go limp first, my brain or my fingers.

Prelude in E minor Op. 28 No. 4

It seems to be easier for me to write titles lately than to actually put my heart on the page. I had been on such a roll and then, electricity deficiency, malnourishment, depression, and fear set in. I began writing these epic pieces in my head swearing I would get them down on paper at some point, somehow. I recognized my lack in progress and so with every bit of energy I could muster up I began writing, even if I couldn't finish, I didn't want to lose the thoughts behind what I knew would be extraordinary pieces. I collected names of the people who inspired me. I revealed my identity to the kind souls I would meet. I will connect each puzzle piece to my Prelude.

I now know why this chapter has appeared in my story, the story of me, Warner Bailey. I am a woman who no longer calls herself a girl. I am a woman. I am grown up from my childish past. I have an understanding of life that I had but forgot. I'm remembering now. I am learning how. I am a writer, always have been, always will be. I've been living out these stories. I am living the dream. I have so much wonder and excitement still in me, it's overflowing. I will hover over blank pages and let it all spill. Colorful ink droplets of love, loss, strength, courage, dark, light, hope, and power. Read me, but don't read between my lines please, there lays nothing. My imagination is great. My spirit and soul are both young and old. I possess gifts that only I can give.

If you're still reading and wondering which goes limp first, the brain or the fingers, it's the brain in this case for me. And there go the fingers. I'm struggling to press the last keys.

Tonight I will fall asleep to the sounds of Chopin making love to black and white keys. I will dream of good things and awake to another California morning, I hope to take this feeling of calm with me to tomorrow. We shall see. My wish is that you will join me.

Goodnight you princes and princesses of Maine, you kings and queens of New England.

Chopin - Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2

"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful."-Warner Bailey

Day 2 30/30 Poetry Challenge

I'm in love with the prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net of day 2 of the National Poetry Month 30/30 Challenge (30 Poems in 30 days!?!?!)

Taking a cue from our craft resource, an essay by Katie Rensch on the poetic “I”. we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that plays with voice. For example, you might try writing a stanza that recounts something in the first-person, followed by a stanza recounting the same incident in the second-person, followed by a stanza that treats the incident from a third-person point of view. Or you might try a poem in the form of a dialogue, which necessarily has two “I” speakers, addressing two “you”s. Another way to go is to take an existing poem of yours or someone else’s, and try rewriting it in a different voice. The point is just to play with who is speaking to who and how. Happy writing!

When I first saw you we were young

I thought you couldn’t see me 

Young and dumb

You were the first to make me cry

You were the last before we died

The moment I knew

That moment I shared

I shared it with you

My last moment was our moment

I died alone with you

You looked at me the moment we died the same exact way you did when we were young

I could never look at you like that then

I couldn't look at you at all

Young and dumb

I've hurt you so many times

I wish it were me alone who died

In your arms

Or by my bedside

I said to myself when I first saw you

I want to grow old and die with that one

That one was you

I died alone with that day with you

I was there

The day they met

I was there the day they died

You should have seen the look in their eyes

-Warner Bailey 4/2/18

Is there anybody out there?

Is there anyone reading my posts yet? I'm so impatient. I want some feedback . On what you may ask? On this! On nothing! I just wanna know I'm being heard before I pour my heart and soul out. But I get it, that's how I get the rubber neckers, I've gotta pour some blood sweat and tears on to the pavement first. Fine.
Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the time I lived in motels with prostitutes and drug dealers....