I always considered my acts of writing to be strictly of a selfish nature; I wrote to console, conjure, and conceal my real feelings. Writing helped alleviate the demonic miscreation that impaled itself within my credulous heart–my susceptible nature. Without trying to overindulge and sugar-coat, I was much too sensitive. Gullible. Naive. And very very innocent.
Being naive and innocent, I was able to meet a plethora of different people that had varying affects on my personality and growing imagination. Each new love interest I gained left with me a piece of their quintessence; the life blood of our mortality. I devoured these pieces, enraptured by their beauty and sometimes malevolence. And then I hungered for more.
I was always fascinated with Lovecraft’s “fear of the unknown” and something I like to call The Depression Era of music…or what my friend Michael Grant of the band L.A. Guns likes to call “Slit Your Wrist Music”. Not surprisingly, my style of writing from this era was directly influenced from Michael and his brother Azeron who were both in a popular Sacramento Gothic/Black Metal band called SIN.
Most of my pieces of work have to deal with that foreboding side of reality. Having emotionally invested wholeheartedly into that plane of existence, my only alternative to “a swan dive to oblivion” was to scratch the pain into paper with ink. These collected pieces are a direct result of those endeavors.
And although the majority of these pieces contain the ingredients of despair, pity, and the overall somberness of a petulant mind, there are a few pieces embedded within that shine with the brightness of the sun after a torrential rain. Luminous, warm, and unfractured. Fly On Your Mended Wing (page 6) for example, uses the tribulations of a dispassionate and deeply troubled relationship, and “unmasks” itself to encourage closure of said relationship.
Another great example of a piece written in the time of halcyon heights, We’ll Make The World Explode (page 22), embodies passionate requests to destroy everything in existence, save for the passion and unrequited desire to belong as one; the desire to keep one in an embrace to protect from the devils and demons of the world who invoke intimidation and bravado to weaken emotionally.
Pieces such as the ones above are few and far in-between, sadly. But when they do appear, I hope they provide a sigh of relief and/or jubilation. I was sometimes able to step out of the shadows in order to drink some sunshine and sing aloud without a care.
I sometimes still write dour pieces when placed in a setting reminiscent to the days of old. The fire is still there and is sometimes stoked to a raging blaze (although not as easily as before). But, as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to prioritize my feelings and only let but a select few within my emotional domain. With this, my first book, I happily invite you all in.
– Ray Marquez, Autumn 2013