the last part of this weekend I spent well – cleaning, organizing, meditating, reading, conversing, and so on. one of the things I realized is that the work never ends. even if you want some peace of mind to relax for a bit, you have to work a bit just to get that sometimes. it is all a matter of work, of movement. there are so many things which you can appreciate, but how are you going to fit them into your time? wasting that time means missing the point.
when you come to the end of something, that’s mostly how you see it all the most clearly. that’s how I write, at the end of a day, a little wiser having gone through it.
other than that, no real profound statements really. and can think of nothing else to report.
. . .
Saturday, December 6, 2003
gained: you have an unfair advantage over your competition – I heard, on the radio driving home through sleet and snow, overcast grey skies. I want to look into chanting mantras to heel my hip, which is now learned, there is nothing seriously wrong with it by way of arthritis, Lyme disease, or any other type of deterioration. I can breathe a sigh of relief on that one, but also cry the typical cries when the pain comes – as it does still in fact come, despite knowing whatever it is that I know. at least I can worry less and concentrate on writing and reading. if the pain becomes too great, I can return to bed and rest up.
I am making my way through The Trial. it is a good read, though at times a little over my head. when I get in bed and read reclined, inevitably I’ll start to fall asleep. I can count on reading a maximum of about 2-3 pages, tops. then it is off to never never land for me.
. . .
yes, it is true, thomas’ english muffins are awe-inspiring. no, I don’t work for them. I am enjoying breakfast 15 hours early. you could say my schedule is off-kilter.
. . .
Sunday, November 30, 2003
dreamt the results on my hip and leg came back that the bone in those areas is crumbling, decomposing. was waiting to talk to the doctor.
another part of the dream was I had a strange involvement with an italian mafia and was in the midst of a war between two families. after it was over, a traitor was revealed who started killing people at a party, coming in through the front door firing his gun off. he shot nearly ten people. luckily I escaped.
we are getting ready to have lunch with my mom and grandmother at the Olive Garden. I suppose one of the things we’ll talk about is what we want for Christmas. was thinking this morning that maybe I want one of those iSight cameras. this xmas thing is corrupting. I’d rather just not think about it. no, it’s just that my family is insane, it winds up ruining the holidays for us. I need to go shave and all that. goodbye!
. . .
happy to be alive. not easy being alive. the best way to kill yourself, I mean the most vicious way of killing yourself is to let yourself live. Elliott Smith stabbed himself in the heart. I was thinking about him today, wondering if by now he’s regretting that, floating around and shaking his head, knowing it was a mistake. what happens? I don’t know for sure. death is the hugest mystery. and life ain’t so clear either. “it’s a matter of life and death” people say. night and day. water, sand. white, black. man, woman.
. . .
I swallow these pills for the pains in my leg, and breath in cat litter dust and it hardens in my chest, feels like someone dropped a grand piano on me. grand pianos keep dropping out of windows.
. . .
blue stars, green clovers. imagine is a great concept. as a writer I have to imagine in my head what the words look like before they even make it to the page. in drawing, I have to imagine beforehand what the lines will look like before I even draw them, before I place them, or push them in a certain direction.