Alwaysland

Posted on March 28, 2006 in Journals & Notebooks Reflections

Readers should be warned that I write my daily journals with no audience in mind other than that which sits inside the calcium amphitheatre of my head. If these fragments seem more fractured than T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, you know the reason:

“Waving the arm over the notebook, the pen pointing at the notebook, preparing to scrawl repetitions then pare away the excess and rewrite what is new and more than silent black noise if that is what I must do….I [am] lonely, needing to talk — Is desperation a form of mania or depression? — I don’t know. If I could put a finger on it, I would be close to a cure — the finger comes down and there’s a hole in the board — no place to knock a nail….”

“I love the way way the pen cuts the paper — for me, this is delight — like the farmers who cleared the forests — what an irony — I am writing on cellulose.”

* * * * *

“I am the primordial soup, congealing into bits of life — cultist? — no, I am no cultist — and that is why I am lonely — I will not worship a teacher — I never say that I have found the way — just that I am making it or not making it –….

….good not to be dead — claws in the dirt, pulling myself to stability, I am reversing the reversal but I am not all that special, what I do you can do — so do not see me as a god….stretch my legs, push them, and think about the lost days — Neverland is Alwaysland [for me]