I often don’t understand. I walk through books aware of meaning, the brush of shapes, the breath of a thing gone when I turn. It’s not blindness, but something near to, an acute myopia. I can see outlines of ideas, contours of intimations, the displaced energy as something large and mysterious moves beyond my understanding….
Can I think of one historical or fictional person who held together a fracturing world? (Why did I write this? What was I thinking?). Note taken later that day.
Story idea: 1st person: A writer, egoist failure, an observer, still. Subject: Narrator writes at a table in a grocery store Starbucks every morning. Everyday, he sees an older woman at the same table. She arrives earlier than him always and has never left before him. She always has a stack of books. Typically, four…
About 1:30, right after I eat lunch, I tire and, without energy, sadness threatens to, just threatens to – what? What? Everyday this happens. Each time it surprises me. The day started off so well. I worked. Maybe, I played with my kid or went to the gym. I live and living steals the energy…
FOREWORD: I began writing these posts a year ago and since then the style and tone have changed. You will also notice that my kid ages pretty quick. That’s cause, I’ve got a big archive of material that I’m going to start posting every week. I moved to Vic West in 2014 and noticed this…