Dear Good People of the Earth Whom I Aim to Automatically Love,
It's 8:07 and I've been up about 40 minutes. Why I don't know. I'm dreadfully hungry, and forget that I often wake up hungry, due to my tendency to immediately attack the caffeinated beverage.
Still dabblingly "editing" poetry, which, as I hinted in a Facebook status (Lord have mercy on our strange, our tiny "global" existence), is not something at all concrete / what constitutes improvement? I keep finding flamboyant, blatant typos, and finding them does not set me at ease / make me think, Oh, good, I caught that; rather, wtf else did I totally overlook through a combination of
I want coffee but I also desire to give my Dad and stepmother some space to discuss whatever they discuss, the guise of kindness in droning confessionalism, or something, though they are people who are trying hard and have made good strides. No matter how tedious they seem to me, I can imagine I seem infinitely more so to them.
My mucus took a neonish yellow turn today, though still transluscent- all those phone conversations in the freezing cold perhaps. I've been down to one cigarette a day here, not out of hiding but out of following my own inclination more then the social currents. I feel like even that one cigarette is more about asserting my autonomy then craving for the item in itself. I've gained a bit of weight, which is fundamentally fine, but provokes a tinge of oldschool sadness on some deep level; I'm defensive / I don't care what you say. I keep thinking of that celebrity, who was it Kate Moss I think "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels." That's completely politically incorrect in our era of ED's (just learned this abbreviation yesterday), and I will probably scare off all the other bloggers on here. But it is part of the reality of image/fashion/lifeinthefastlane, and not one to be shunned before examination, I don't think. I fluctuate, as many have commented. Sometimes I equate weighing a bit less with being a little sharper though other times clamor for ass. Enough.
I've become convicted by Rita Mae Brown, who wrote a writing manual called "Starting from Scratch." I do things in a troubling order, sometimes, but I am going to come to terms with my folly, I hope, and develop discipline, because even if I was stupid in the way I went about applying to graduate school in certain areas I did, as previously mentioned, inevitably learn from the experience, and I want to be a writer, and will pursue it and who can stop me? The truth is I want to write not just these blogs, which you can't convince me are totally lacking in value, but novels. Anyway, Ms. Brown compared the writer not-knowing-Latin (I think of the title of Woolf's essay "On Not Knowing Greek": what an artist!) to the parent who performs surgery on her child without medical training because she so loves the child. So now I want to learn Latin. I'm not sure how to go about this but it is deeply imbedded in English, I hear.
I'm really excited to devote myself more to reading less to pecking at "pieces" I wish anyway to retire. I did once write "lucky find of the black eyeliner nub, leaping from the sheets like a fish," so there is hope. More of that kind of sentiment, less of the one day counseling session testimonials.
Speaking of which, my relationship may need guidance, even a third party- which perhaps you youngsters (I'm pretending someone reads this to sustain it, but I really may have to return to my ole internet stomping grounds, this just isn't as fun- though you can comment anonymously, and disguising your identity will be an exercise in tone and structure and all kinds of things, though I forget what we are afraid of, no offense, and I should probably be More Afraid, in terms of taking sensible precautions, not Less) find a bit ridiculous... But it's not, necessarily, if we can be wise, open, loving, and resourceful. Kinda vague, huh? Last night in my dream there was a couple who wanted to commit to each other and they decided to spend a year with no contact. I don't think I'd like that and I think I've had more than enough of "breaks." But at the same time, I am enjoying being out of state after a ten day romantic marathon with my man and a lot of emotion and declarations on both our parts. I'm just gonna be cool about it, well, by my standards. Cooler than I've ever been, with balanced desires and my eggs in sundry baskets (sorry, I keep using that qualifier and I've no right to). Like learning Latin. And, oh yeah, I keep forgetting: guitar. Peace be with you my lovely friends. <3
