Empty. Bored. Distracting myself with thoughts of jobs and careers. I want nothing in both senses. This journaling satisfies me. Writing does. I collected my autobiographical stuff to start writing on the Renzi inspired sketch. The goal is to retain spirit and spontaneity. A sense of unmediated voice. I’ll need to fill in the gaps….
First line: I just want to make it clear, you know, absolutely, that I never ever thought he was a bad dad. STORY IDEA: Letter to MP about unjust firing. Question: what is sincerity? TO DO: Ask T. about animating shorts.
I read a story from Ireland in Best Fiction of Europe 2019. Six pages divided into small sections which followed one woman’s life from early adolescence to her immanent death at fifty. Third person, stylized diction and syntax (tons of alliteration and odd verbs; the sinful ‘to be’ never makes an appearance giving it a…
It hurts, but I’ve done it: written the day sans date. (At some point, A. nicknamed me Details Donkey). When we discuss Don Quixote, we discuss the discussion. We engage with the exegesis first, and if we engage at all with the text, we do so second. Or so it seems. (I tried reading it…
A perfect day for most: sun, 22 degrees (Celsius), slight breeze, no cloud. I convinced myself that if I could overcome my feelings and work, those feelings would disappear. I now work through, and with the feeling, as it, anxiety, corrodes my interior. My organs rust, a manufacturing defect. Writing slows the process. When will…
Will I ever dare and write only the day? Ooh La La. I continued to work on the Kingsway Massage story. I write only for publication as who reads these journals? I write for a resume line. I wanted her to stop but I couldn’t make decisions except those which didn’t hurt anyone.” “It was…
Two rejections for my Calgary story. I woke up at 3:30 pinned awake by buoyant worries. Will A. leave? . . . I reject all friends and try to find somewhere to die alone even F. abandoned by my voluptuous collapse.
My shoulder has broken. F. broke it while napping on my arm. I have no words. Again the sky is empty and the fact of the sun. Are these the best days? Why exist? The sky emptied of everything but the sun. I want nothing, so I have no reason to live. We have created…
Mastery has always fascinated me. My first encounter was in grade school. A boy named Lucas who drew tree-cities full of mushroom people. My crude attempts to mimic him made his facility seem magical. Everything I was good at I was just good at. Lucas must have a gift I decided, and I gave up…
I made the entry directly into WordPress. This raises the question of primacy and intent.