hijacked attention
oh my god
leave me alone
please, just let
the air cleanse
itself of sound…
my attention
is not to be hijacked
at your every whim…
I’d like to have
an afternoon
of nothingness,
of some kind of internal bliss,
of sacred unperturbedness
my thoughts, they gurgle —
I need Pepto for my brain…
it’s the sound outside
clashing with the curse
of your incessant cries,
your barrage
of foolishly petulant whys
and the chorus
of hate-filled diatribes…
I can’t take it
it’s too much nonsense
for me to process,
a flood of obnoxious
streams (no, sludge)
of heavy consciousness,
somehow housed
outside your dense
and impenetrable skull…
I need a fence,
no a wall, or a barrier,
a shield, something
to protect my mind,
to prevent the theft,
this constant larceny
of my attention
“My imagination functions much better when I don’t have to speak to people.”― Patricia Highsmith
Garbage Notes:
When I wrote this I was having a hard time finding enough uninterrupted peace in order for me to get my work done.
The biggest enemy of the writer is interruption. Once you find yourself in a good headspace, you have to protect yourself from the little things that nag at you and could steal your attention.
I know it sounds kind of anti-social, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with asking for some peace and quiet from those who are around you. If they respect what you do, then it shouldn’t be such a complicated thing.
It should be acceptable to ask to be left alone once in a while, especially if it’s to do something very important to you. Your very livelihood could be at stake.
It’s a shame, but it’s truly hard to find spaces where people won’t infringe on your attention. There’s sound and chaos everywhere. There’s distracting technology everywhere. There’s noise everywhere.
Whether you’re out in public or even in spaces that should be more low-key, like the library or bookstores, it can still be tremendously difficult to secure yourself some serenity.
And of course, not everyone has a home environment that is totally private. It’s a real battle sometimes.
Anyway, that’s what I was going through at the time I was writing this poem. I was facing a few too many annoying interruptions that were keeping me from being the writer I needed to be.
The best words come out when there’s comfort, quiet, solitude, and peace. I always find it easier to write well when the storm outside can be kept at bay. That’s when the creative storm inside can be brought to the surface.
Franco Amati 2024
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As someone who needs perhaps more peace and silence than most, this lightened my heart. To me this goes hand in hand with having to be around someone who feels compelled to speak yet only say the most mundane and obvious things (in a voice that hits on my last nerve). Strangely enough I am not considered antisocial but my patience is not of the virtuous sort.
I completely understand for I just can't be interrupted I just can't-I'm not sure it makes me a poet a writer or whatever..it's just I can't be anything else when I'm in this and I loose time- I think it surely were minutes but there were hours, hours upon hours and sometimes it's days and weeks and sometimes it's months
Yet it makes me also feel guilty-because who robs whom? Actually I rob Them of me. Of my presence. You think anybody remembers his work when dying, even good one? Maybe. I think one painfully recalls all the moments he robbed others of his presence, for whatever great reason that was, even if for them themselves...
It's a hard one for sure.
Thank you, Franco