Would That I Might

I need to end the story I am writing.  I am very close to the ending, I know.  There is not a lot more that can happen in it, really, just the final bit, but it keeps stretching on.  In some ways, I had expected it would.  This piece is a bit of a shaggy dog story, and so it is natural to kind of delay things and stretch it out.  The punch of it is more potent when that balance is properly held, but I know that it is ultimately going to be a disappointment of sorts for the reader.  That is kind of the point, of course, and it has to be done in a way that still works, as well.  In this case, I really want the lack of meaningful resolution to actually have an impact and value that comes out of that lack of understanding.  It is about the character facing that emptiness, not just about the reader being left wondering about it.  The reader's answers have to grow from the character being denied any.

Is It Unclear?   It was discussed, was laid out before, but it does not seem to be anything you recall. Did it matter  or was it all just manipulation, saying this or that as if it would change things, as if the intention was to match with the needs that were presented. It still seems the same, as if you are certain of the path forward, but it is the path that was rejected before anything else began. If that is what you thin is right, you will need to explain again. It was all clear from the start. I should have seen it myself.

I still need to finish work on this short story, but I am getting quite buzzed about the idea I have for this novel.  It is not entirely clear to me just how to write it, but I am starting to get a sense of the structure and where I want to begin, and there are certain moments that are coming to mind already.  I have a sense of the character and of the way it might work in general, and even some thoughts about where it may be leading as a whole.  The truth is that the plot for this book is rather formulaic by design.  I don't think that is a problem, really it might be an attribute in this case, as it is a sort of classic story just applied to a specific scenario in order to make comments on aspects of the contemporary world.  I want to make sure I get the tone right, more than anything.  At the moment, though, more than anything I just want to figure out how the whole story should begin.  Once I have a clear sense of the starting point, I think most of the rest will fall into plac

What Was There Was Not What I Intended It seemed to say something I did not mean at all and did not want to say, and I did not even notice until it was almost too late, and I am glad I did notice, am glad I stopped and considered it. I worry, though: I did not mean it, I don't think, but what if I did, what if a part of me was saying all of that outside my awareness? I do not think that is any good. It makes sense  I might have dark thoughts, but I do not like to imagine them coming out that way. What does it mean? I am sure it was just an accident. Yes, I do not think it means anything at all.

Saying that I am thinking of writing a novel is uncomfortable for me.  In part, I know that it is because of the general way that this can sound, but as someone who has previously written several novels, I am also aware that I have some reason to say it.  I want to commit to writing another novel, really, and I have an idea that I am developing for it, but I still feel very awkward acknowledging that.  It is also, I am certain, partly out of fear that I will jinx myself by saying anything, and, as well, the awareness that I have considered numerous ideas for potential books that never got anywhere.  Yes, I have completed more than one novel, but I have quite a few others that were abandoned at some stage of development.   Maybe it is just a fear that I won't live up to the commitment.  Of course, the whole reason for making such a commitment is so that I have to live up to my word.  If I weren't afraid, it wouldn't mean anything in the first place.  

I Should Have Made The Preparations Already but I am not certain about any of it, am regretting the suggestion, even now, am thinking it is a mistake.  I don't know what I should do.  I want a better choice, want to feel different about it all. I am frozen.  I need help, need someone to show me what to do, or, better, to do it for me.  I want another choice that is better than this one, really that is the truth.   I know, there is not anything, no alternative I can think of, no options that appeal at all. It should really be simple. Why can't I allow it to be simple?

I got back to work on the section of non-fiction that I was writing last night.  I'd been worried that I might have made some claims that I would need to edit out, but I found that what I had written was far more restrained than I had recalled, and actually fit quite well with a quote that I had uncovered as part of researching the piece.  In truth, the quote hadn't been one that had jumped out at me initially, but in the context of the material already presented and the details being examined, there was a clear connection that seemed worth pointing out.  I began the research for this piece with a fairly well developed understanding of my ideas, and with enough knowledge, already, to feel fairly certain about my premise, but looking into it has presented me with a great deal more than I had ever expected.  The topic itself is one that I think might stir up a bit of controversy and upset, so I am glad to find myself on such solid ground.

Potentials I do not know what is to come, but I can guess what is possible and what is not.  I can name the things that I do not believe will be, can offer limitations and potentials. It is all about those possibilities, that is what matters.  I don't know the things that will be.  It can't be known, I do not think it can be known, but it is also not anything at all. There are still rules and limitations. I wish I saw more things as possible in my own life, really.  I do not know what will come, but I can guess what is not going to happen. I do not feel so good about that any longer.

I have been struggling with my writing tonight, mainly because I am just exhausted right now.  I've been finding it hard to concentrate and just want to get done so I can get to bed.  Even so, I think I did some good work.  I may need to go back and revise a bit of what I wrote in my non-fiction, as I think I overstated a point slightly, but that is easily corrected, and I feel very good about some of my other writing tonight.  I felt very tapped in when I was working on my short story tonight.  Perhaps that is because of my being so tired, somehow; it is certainly true that this story has a certain kind dreamlike aspect.

You Tell Me It Is Both Ways at Once And That I am Wrong in Each but wrong in opposite ways, wrong for doing and not doing, wrong for bothering you and wrong for not caring at all, but all at the same time. It is a nifty trick, the way you choose  to make me feel guilty for the help I offer that you refuse to accept.

I feel very close to the ending with this story that I am writing.  The general shape of that ending has been pretty apparent to me for a while now, but the specifics are now starting to get clear.  Even so, things keep progressing in ways that I hadn't fully expected, with small deviations that expand the tale just a bit here and there, in ways that still seem to be progressing towards that same conclusion for the piece.  It is an absurd story set in a world that does not really make sense to the character and which seems to have a meaningful logic, but one that the characters and, by extension, the reader are not able to comprehend, at least in part because they are not allowed to know enough.  This allows for a great deal of freedom for me as a writer, but it also requires a certain kind of discipline in order to make it work cohesively and not feel frivolous and a waste of time.  I feel that it is working quite well up to this point, and I am sure that, if I can get the tone ri

It Is Not Worth What Is Required but there is not an alternative, either, is not a way to do nothing and get out of it altogether, no avoiding the matter, no escaping it, either. It must be done and it will be hard, will take a great deal, will take a great deal more  than just what it will cost, will be tiring and long and it must be attended to, must be managed and directed. There is more and more to it. And in the end, what will be? When it is all done and over, it will all have been a mistake, already it was a mistake and it will still be that way. I don't want to think that. I want to have hope and believe it could be more, that something good will result, but I think it is worse to have such a hope, considering everything else, considering the way it all has gone. I know what is possible and what would be needed for the effort and investment to be worthwhile. It is not, I realize, possible. That is the nature of things. I just wish I had other choices that might lead there, b

I spent most of the day at my mother's house working on dinner.  She helped, of course, and I worked hard to prepare and make a game plan that would ease the effort today.  Most of the side dishes were things that I was able to prep in advance so that they just had to finish this afternoon, and that made it a lot easier to focus on the few things that definitely needed to be done today.  It was one of the first times that I have really been able to get organized in this way, and I want to build on that so I can be a better cook in general.  I know that most of the challenges I have when cooking result from a lack of preparation and organization, but now that I know I was able to work it out quite well for this meal, I am confident that it is something I can continue to do better in the future.  

Thanksgiving Lesson In the end, even the squash which had sat too long under the broiler, turning cracked black instead of a nice bubbled brown was not the disaster it seemed, not when care was taken to scrape away the surface and reveal what was beneath, which had remained safe, had not scorched.  It was, to be certain, not the same, was lacking without the crust, but no one else knew that and they were sated by what remained. They had not expected more, had not expected even that much. It was not a disaster at all, was fine, and everyone enjoyed it all. Even if it had been worse, it was only a side dish. There was so much else. It would have been fine without it.  I should learn to be less concerned with making it all perfect, should learn, should think what matters about it, what the reasons are for wanting it to be right. It did not matter at all in those dimensions.

I am starting to get excited about the idea I have for this potential new novel.  It is funny how a small shift of the sort I discussed last night can start to open things up.  Today, I kept thinking about this idea and there is a great deal that has started to come into shape for me.  As I said, I am thinking of it in a very different way than before, even though the actual story is the same.  In essence, I am shifting the tone and perspective, but it is also a shift in the kind of reality that surrounds the story.  It felt, for a while, important that it reflect a certain kind of realism, and, with that, a certain perspective on the world.  Now, I am recognizing a much more interesting set of possibilities, and have moved towards a more satirical slant that allows the ideas I have had all along to work in a way that I hadn't considered before.  I think I am starting to really understand what I am going for with this piece, and it feels far more exciting than before.  In some ways

You Say You Do Not Understand as if it is a question, but I have no answers, am not the one who can tell you more. Do you think that is silly? I must be aware of it all, you think, but it is nothing that works in such simple ways. It is a journey and a place to be and is nothing close to either. There is a destination which is in all our hearts but forgotten by our minds. You and I can find it if we are not looking, if we distract ourselves by seeking other things and the same nothing.

I've spoken a number of times about the idea I am attempting to develop for a novel.  This concept is fairly clear to me, and has been from the start, but I was finding it hard to come up with certain aspects of the story.  Really, it was not that I had difficulty in coming up with a concept for the specifics, more that I saw the various ideas I had as too obvious or unbelievable.  I worried about the story working for the reader, but what I have come to realize is that the issue is not those details.  The truth is that I was looking at the story with the wrong criteria in mind, because I hadn't understood its perspective and tone.  Now, I can see how the ideas I was quick to dismiss are really the right way to go.  It is still feeling a bit nebulous to me at this moment, but I have a much clearer sense of it than before, and I count that as meaningful progress.

It Would Be Best  not to give in and just to stay calm, doing nothing in response. The desire is there, is stalking, but it is not silent, is not a quiet hunter. It makes known where it is and what it needs, what will come if it gets what it demands. There is what has been and what is already vanished, what has gone before. I should just accept the emptiness and let it be there. That is the challenge. If I could do that, so much would change, would already be so different.

It has been another long day and I am feeling very drained, not only energetically, but also emotionally.  So much has been going on and it just is hard to even know how to deal with it all.  I am trying to do the things that I need to, the things that are important, but I know that I am not keeping up with it all.  I am getting overwhelmed, as I have said before, and I don't feel like I am doing what I must to deal with that.  I have to figure out a way to make things better, really, because all of this is too much.

Repair What can be done?  I know nothing can be said, it is beyond that, beyond the apology as an abstract admission. I know it requires more. I want to facilitate that, or is it impossible? If it cannot be, I do want to know. It will be a wound: I want things to be better, am not at all well with how it is now. I want to know their is a way. I do not believe they will change and make it right, but at least I could hope.

I am still working on that short story, but I want to be ready with the next idea, which I still think is going to be an attempt to write a novel built around this idea I have for a science fiction device.  The idea itself is not all that far-fetched, really, but it facilitates a certain kind of wish fulfillment story that I think could be fun for me to play with.  I am still getting stuck in terms of the plot, as I know that a story of this sort requires that something goes wrong, that it turns out differently than expected.  I've had a few ideas for the kinds of things that might be possible, but they all feel so artificial to me.  I've got some other ideas, but nothing that really feels as if it will work.  Maybe it will become clearer for me once I figure out more about the character and world of the story. 

Already, It Has Been Too Long and now, is longer, and even then, when it begins, it will be more and longer again, and what else is there? It cannot be helped, cannot be another way, not at this point.  It shouldn't have been this way, that is what I will be told, have been told, again and again, about so many things, I am told it is this way now and it may be wrong but it is too late  for it to be different or better.  And now, I am stuck here, just waiting and waiting for it to move forward. If only, when at last it moved, it would be moving towards where I want to go.

I am closing in on the end of that story, I believe.  It is difficult to be truly certain, as I don't have a clear ending, just a general concept.  Things have been growing and shifting about in the story, with some of the recent developments being ideas I had considered earlier and wasn't certain about, but then I reached a place in the story where those ideas just slotted into place.  It may be there is more to come that I am not yet aware of, but I have a sense of it winding down, or at least heading towards a sort of ending.  I've a fairly good idea of how the ending needs to work, and of the general parameters of what will need to be established for it, but that is all still broad.  As well, there is a way in which the resolution of the story needs to be unsatisfying to an extent, as it must come without a real rationale, as something unearned and unexplained, as that is all just the setup for the emotional punch of the story, which has more to do with the character

Your Opinion You think it is a truth, a common thing we will all agree is so, because you think it and cannot imagine another way  to understand, cannot fathom questioning this. None of us explained, not one said anything to tell you  it was only you, that it is not  what we observe, is not what we know. It is only your truth. What good would have come if we had? It would be best if it seemed possible for such understand to exist between us, but I know I cannot agree with you and you, I don't think, would even appreciate knowing I hold another perspective.

I was asked to write a poem that was hopeful and positive for an upcoming project, and I am not really in that space most of the time at the moment.  I'd tried to think about it and come up with an idea through concerted effort, but it just kept feeling trite and falling apart on me.  In a few cases, I began with an idea and found it spun out in another direction, or didn't really feel quite the way I had expected it would, when I was finished.  At some point, I just set it aside and let myself write a bunch of other poems instead.  The thing is, though, after writing for a bit on some other poems, I began one that just started to take shape.  It didn't actually begin in a place that felt, at the time of writing it, all that optimistic, but as it continued, it took on an energy and momentum.  I didn't think it out or even expect it in that moment, but there it was, this poem I had been thinking about and circling around for several days already.  It wasn't just that

Take A Different Path perhaps, or take the same one but take it differently, or in the other direction instead of the same again. There are ways to notice that might be the same and there is what is different even when that is true. It becomes too small a thing, saying any of this. It is nothing you need from me, is too clear.  Why even write it down? I do not know any longer, am asking it for you, now. I am the one seeking to find, following my own footprints as if they will lead away, as if they can go anyplace I have not yet been before, and still forgetting even what was once know can be recognized as revelation.

I am getting towards the end of this short story, at last, which is exciting, but I also know I will need to get to work on the next piece when I am done.  I have an idea for that, but it is still not fleshed out totally.  I suppose that is fine, but I had wanted to be more prepared, since the goal is to write something a little more traditional with the new piece.  It is an effort at a more commercial piece of fiction, which is intended to follow a certain formula for the story.  The general idea is a sort of wish fulfilment piece around the invention of a piece of technology, but I know that for the story to work, something has to go terribly wrong and I have to figure out the specifics of that catastrophe.  I have a few ideas, but so far am not really sold on any of them.  The truth is, though, even if I am not certain of this detail, I don't think it will be too hard to write the beginning with what I know so far.  

I Do Not Think Their Is So Long As That I am not going to pretend that is reasonable. I know the way things are, how I have done and what I have been.  It is a difficult matter, is not easy, not for me it isn't, has never been. To make it better would be great, but isn't real. I have not found that pathway, do not know it exists. To believe in it feels silly at this point, foolish. I don't trust in such things now.  Maybe that is freedom, or a freedom.  I do not know. It could be I was free when I thought it was possible, when I believed in the chance.  Now, I am doomed, perhaps.  I do not know.  It is not simple. I know what I think tonight, but I cannot speak for myself tomorrow. 

It is interesting for me to consider how much I am writing at the moment.  Until quite recently, my daily writing was focused entirely on poetry, but in the past few months I expanded that so that I am also working on prose, both fiction and non-fiction.  I had always aimed to be writing more than poetry, and I knew that doing the work each day is important for me, but it took me a long while to get here.  I've been writing poems daily for years already, as well as doing this journal, which is itself a small bit of daily prose, but hadn't integrated the other stuff into my routine.  In truth, it was when I had a real impulse to write a piece of prose that I began that aspect of the work, and I just utilized the momentum that first project gave me to keep me on track.  The fiction was a little more difficult, but I think that the real truth is, once I had gotten myself writing the other prose, I knew I had to just jump in to do it, and so I pushed myself so I would feel that I h

Another Disordering It is not good for it to be gone and is not alright to replace it with another thing, not if what was said is what is true, and if that is not true, why was it said? It makes sense to continue, but it makes no sense if it is not continuing, if it is repetition of what was done. We started, before, and now?  Is it to be anything at all or do you think it does not matter? I cannot accept what is offered is so easily ended, can be gone that way. Restoration will resolve, anything else is only the revelation that it was all lies.

The new prose piece I am writing is taking off a bit, now.  I had written my general thoughts out and was still certain I had more to say, but it wasn't all that clear to me.  Tonight, though, I looked at the topic from a new perspective and it opened up a great deal more to think about.  The new material is a bit different from what has come before in terms of its focus, but it is very connected to the rest, but I think that the piece would work better if I reorganize it so that the new material is earlier, though I cannot articulate exactly why that feels right.  It may be a sense that the argument that I began making, which is still at the core of the piece,  might be served better if I build up to it somewhat.  I think that right now, but I know that their is a great deal more to write; when I get to the end I might have a very different perspective.

I Do Not Know How It Was I was not there, but I am wondering how it went.  I know it was not easy for you, I am certain of that. I understand it, too. I hope it was fine, or not terrible, or somehow better, something more and not expected? I do not know. I wonder, but I think  you would say if it had been bad, had been anything more than nothing.

I think that I am finally getting towards the end with this short story.  Certain events that I have been imagining are starting to occur and I am feeling like I know more about what is happening now, at least in a general sense.  I still don't have the specifics of the ending choreographed, but I have a strong sense of the things that need to be done in the story in order for the ending to work.  In truth, the ending of the story is one that is supposed to come out of left field and not be fully sensible.  It is not a traditional story and the ending is one that won't sit right for the character in terms of the absurdity of things.  In some ways, I need to embrace that aspect of the work in order to make the ending what it needs to be, rather than trying to be certain it fits with the story in other ways.  That element of unevenness may be an important component for crafting the right kind of ending.

I Did Not Take It Up When It Came and it would not wait for me, was ready and already going and I did not go along, so I did not get what was to be had, I did not follow, did not learn,  do not know even now.   It may have been a mistake, or it may be it was better that I did not. I do not know.  I do not have answers. It may even be that I would say the same if I were one who had chosen to go. It might all be just the same but with a different version of the story.

A while back I had begun exploring machine learning algorithms and how to program language models so that I might be able to create something based on my own writing.  I have always been interested in computers and am eager to experiment with this, to see what I might be able to create.  Unfortunately, I was having a lot of difficulty.  While I have been able to teach myself a bit of programming, it is fairly basic stuff, and without guidance, I found the material difficult to really comprehend or follow.  As a result of all that, I put it aside and focused on some other projects. Tonight, though, I went out to dinner with a friend of mine who is a bit more experienced in computing and he thinks he can help me to implement some of what I am thinking, at the very least.  I am looking forward to seeing what we can put together, as this is a project I have been excited about for quite a while and I wasn't really certain I would be able to get it together.

I Will Not Bend on This even after what was said, I will not accept these things. Do you understand my point? It must be heard.  This matters. You have explained the problem, have told me the difficulty, but will not change. There must be a way to have it go right, to get to an ending that is not this, that is acceptable. Tell me how and I will work. I do not mind the effort if the outcome is right. Just do not say again that all the possibilities are ones I will never want.

I am having a bit of difficulty with figuring out how to end the prose piece I am working on right now.  I think that I have made the major points that are necessary for the piece to be effective, but it still doesn't feel complete to me.  It may just be that it is a different kind of piece than I am accustomed to writing, where their isn't a real synthesis in the conclusion because things don't need to be brought together in that way.  It may also be that their is more I know needs to be written before I have it all.  I want to trust that intuition and keep plugging away until I find it, though I also realize it can just be an excuse to never finish.  Another part of me thinks it is really just a matter of putting a last spin on things and concluding it.  Maybe it is not about anything more than creating a sense of finality.

This Time I do not know if that answers it or if it is only another lie, another thing to do that wastes time, is all effort and hope until the end and when you get to that point it is too late to discover, again, it is not wanted.  It is the same as all those others, at least that way. I do not want to find that is the case, do not feel the desire to try if it will only be the same thing. There is not any other way.

I showed the finished portion of the short story I am writing to a friend of mine who I trust and he seemed to enjoy it and get it.  I have been worried because it is quite an odd piece, absurdist and kind of silly, I think, and not altogether doing what anyone would expect a proper story to do.  That, of course, is kind of the point, really, but it still has to work for the reader, and that is not always a simple matter.  In this case, I think that the story is pulled along by the humor of it.  The story does not act serious, and that helps, of course, but my friend also found some parts of it funny enough that he was laughing aloud a little bit, which is always a positive sign, I think.  Of course, this is a good friend of mine, and the story isn't even finished right now, so all of it is kind of circumspect, and I admit that, but it was a good boost for me in terms of my thinking about the story and it helped me to recognize that the piece is working in ways I might have been do

It Is Not So Easy to Do but I will do it.  I have not forgotten, though I have allowed myself to be less than diligent. I have not done it, and I had reasons, and I still have them, even if they are different than what I have said. I am having a challenge. Also, I do not want to. It is not a thing I am feeling good doing, am feeling capable of. It scares me.   I must do it, I know, but please understand the difficulty. Do not think it is simple just because you asked and I said I would. I should have said no, but I wanted to believe it would not be this way.

We were quite fortunate with Nicole.  It hit a bit north of us, and it doesn't seem as if there was very much damage in this area.  That has been the story for a while, really.  It has been a number of years since we really had the brunt of a storm in this area, which has been good, but is also concerning.  I can't help but feel that each time the storm diverts away from us, it is ratcheting up the level of disaster that is due in the next round.  I am sure we are going to get walloped around here in the not too distant future, but the last few years every storm that has threatened a direct hit has veered north or remained a bit south of us until it was further west.  It does seem likely that the storm season here is ending for this year, though Nicole is already a late storm, so who knows any longer...

I Know It Was Not Done and I wish that I could do it, but it is not mine, I am not the one who can. I am afraid to talk about it, to say anything at all to you. I know the difficulties. Still, what is there as a choice, what is there I can do instead? It needs to be done and you are the one allowed, the one who has the possibility of getting it done. I will not be permitted. It is the way of things. You know what it means if it is not done. Remember the last time? It was all disaster for us, then. I want to make certain it is not that way, but I am still hesitant to mention it to you. I know how upsetting these things can be.

I was thinking a bit more about the science fiction story idea that I have.  As I think I mentioned, it feels a bit more conventional in certain ways.  In some ways that is good, as it might result in something that will be a bit easier to sell, but it is also not what I am usually interested in.  In some ways, that is the challenge, though.  It is attempting to work inside those parameters that makes it different and interesting, and which also makes it into a kind of test of mastery, in a sense.  It is about stretching myself in ways that are normally outside of what I would do, about expanding the kind of work that I am capable of.  I expect that even my impression of a more conventional story could still be quite odd, but the goal cannot be to write something that isn't reflective of my own sensibilities and thinking.  Even so, I am excited to try and see if I can't craft the story in a more conventional way this one time.

And Then It Catches I freeze, maybe a moment only or maybe longer.  It is not clear that anything changed but for the momentum itself, as if that could be something aside from a result. The cause?  I wonder  if there is one, or if it is nothing, is habit itself, a different momentum, a conflicting force. I do not have answers or even good questions. I have the unknowing itself. That may be more. It is not a thing to be understood, but, still, it could be enough.

I think we may get some of the impact from Nicole either overnight or in the morning.  I should go check a few things around the yard and make certain it is all secured, but it's dark and rainy already.  I brought in most of the stuff that was out there, furniture and such, but we have some potted plants that it might be good to move.  I'll take a look after I finish writing this up.  I would have done it earlier but I was hoping the storm would miss us.  Most of the forecasts had it tracking a bit further north until this afternoon.  At least worrying about the storm is helping to keep me temporarily distracted from the midterm results.

It Is Not Going Well Tonight It is more than worrying. Is this, perhaps, the point when it becomes too late? The imbalance can't be corrected., not any longer: it feels that way.  I do not know, but I feel endangered, the ground beneath may already be gone. Perhaps, we are only waiting to notice our own fall.

Tomorrow is going to be another long day.  Melissa is a supervisor for one of the polling places in the county and has to be there quite early, so we are going to have to get up around 4 again.  I am sort of used to it at the moment, really.  Today was the only day since early voting began when she wasn't trying to be out the door well before six, and I still was up well before dawn, just because.  The only upshot of that is that I expect I will sleep well tonight, as I am quite worn out at the moment. 

It Is Still The Same You will complain that I do not explain at all what it is I want, what you should do for me to consider it as helpful, but that is only now, is only in this condition. I asked for help before, asked you to prevent what has come to be, asked you for that and I was clear in my request. You knew but did not care, did not listen, and now it is too late to take that back and the results are as predicted and I need help to make it right, to repair my life, to make it alright again, and the only way I know is for this to not be, to never have been, is for you to have listened. I asked for that  when it was possible. Do not tell me you cannot help. that I am not clear or asking the impossible. What I need has not changed except in the circumstances that you have created.

That story is continuing to move in ways that are sometimes unexpected, though not in contradiction to anything I was already thinking, just in ways that are new and complicating.  The ending that I am thinking of, or the general shape of it, still seems to be the same, but new events are popping off and characters are acting in unexpected ways, and it is still going on.  In truth, I think this is how a story should probably go, at least a story of this sort where I began with just a general idea of where to start and shot off without much more of a plan than that.  I know that it is not a sensible plot, and that seems to be a large part of the point, at least to me it is.  I didn't plan on that, but I understand what has been developing and I do feel that the story has a shape under it, a sort of architecture that couldn't come about just by accident.  I mean by this to say that I trust my instincts even if I am not all that aware of what is intended just yet.  I suspect a sur

I Will Be Ready when you return, with all the rest through, as much as it can be put aside, I will have done what I must to make certain. I have gone forward, have taken each step that I could.  I prepared and made the space that must be here, have set the space aside so I can attend your return without distraction. I am here, am waiting. I know it will be some time, will be later than before, and I will be ready. Do not worry, take as long as you must.

I am still working towards an ending for the story I am writing.  I still have the sense that it should end in a way that sort of resolves the central problems on a practical level, but which also leaves a deeper set of questions for the character, with things being fixed in a way that feels as absurd as the events that came before, and tending to leave the character questioning their sense of the world as a whole.  I can imagine a sort of way to do that, and it will be quite odd for things to go back to normal in the world of this story, though it is also, I think, a necessary part of any ending that will work.  At present, the situation the main character is in does not work as an end point, to be certain, as they are still, at present, floating in an empty dark space that seems to be under the surface of Earth.  I need to get them back above ground and someplace that is "safe."  I think that once I find a way to do that, the rest will be easy enough to figure out.

I Am Afraid That One Day It Will Be Too Much And I Will Break What is there?  Nothing will change and I can change none of it. I am not a fool.  You want me to accept it, but understand what it is you are saying, understand me, here and now and as this one, as who I became. There is not any way it can be alright if it is only continuation, if nothing is done that makes it different. The results can be foretold, they are clear.  I have been told what is impossible, have been told what I should not want or expect. I have been told what will be required and the effort and time and expense and all that is built upon it. It is not worth doing. I do not want to be in this world where I can do nothing but break or be broken.

Although I am working on this new prose piece for the past several days, I have actually been doing a bit more work for the other piece as well.  It is mostly media research at the moment, but I think their is something important here.  It is an opportunity to compare how the same ideas are presented by the same artist but in two different contexts, and the essay I am working on is largely about how those two contexts cannot be separated, are, in fact, one thing in the end.  I feel like this might be the element that lets me really find a place to settle with the work as a whole, at least for now.

I Should Have Called Him Today, I Think But I did not do it.  I did not think of it until it was far too late to do it and tomorrow, no, I cannot do it then. It will need to wait, now.  I will wait and call him next week, I suppose, and I must try to remember that. I should write a note  or set a reminder to tell me. I know those things can be done. I am not certain why I don't do it, why I just rely on my keen memory, which I am admitting is not enough. Though, really, that is not even the truth: most of the time I do remember, I think, but it is so hard to get myself to do it, like so many things, it is not always that easy to manage my own actions. I do not have control of it. I am always interfering with any such efforts that I make.

I have an idea for a possible novel that might be a bit more commercial than most of my ideas.  It is a sort of wish-fulfillment story involving a sort of silly, but not entirely implausible technology.  In many ways, such a story kind of has a necessary formula, so it shouldn't really be that difficult to figure out the plot and put it together.  I have been thinking about it a bit, and I want to start to work on it when I finish the story that I am writing at the moment.  I am hoping that I might be able to keep this idea sort of on target and not get too far from the original concept.  Part of me worries that I don't really have the ability to not push the story all the way out and make it far different from what I am currently imagining, but if that happens, I bet it would still be a story I will be glad to have told.

Has It Gotten Better? In a way, yes, in many ways if we are honest, but I do not know if it is a deep better, if it is real and true. I do not think their has been healing, not underneath. It is easier, but that is not the same. I do not know what can be done to change things. I do not know if I believe that can be done. It may be too late. I do not want to think that, but I do not know what there is to say. Things have happened that have repurcussions. The actions taken cannot be undone. This is the world now. It is the world and we live in it, and this is how it has become. Choices were made and this is the result. I do not want to say it cannot be better, but I do not have a solution, not one that is possible, not one that isn't the same as what I told you before. I know it is too late for that, that it is impossible for that to be how it ever is. If it is to be better, I need you to find a way to fix these things that I believe you have made are impossible to fix. Still, even w

I think I am getting very close to the ending with the short story I am writing, but it is hard to be certain with this piece.  It keeps twisting around and the events of the story don't work like a traditional plot, but that seems to be a large part of the point for this story.  In many ways it is a story that seems to be about the fact that it doesn't make sense, a story commenting on absurdity through an embodiment of it.  There is a strong sense of the direction that I want to take for the ending, even if I am not fully certain of the exact specifics yet.  I suspect the ending will have a big job in this case, by providing not just a sense of resolution but a meaningful lens for the reader to filter the rest of the story.  Perhaps that is just me hoping the story is not complete junk that makes no sense at all.  I am quite aware that this is always a possibility.

Explain It to Me How you think this will work out well, will end with things being right when it is such a mess  and cannot change, cannot be made better. Things are not right that will never be fixed and it will cost too much, will take too long, and won't be right anyway. That is what I have been told, it is what everyone has made clear, but you do not want to hear that, do not want to understand  that things are not going well and cannot be made better. If I am wrong, explain to me what you know that I do not. Maybe, I am wrong, but I suspect you just want to make it clear you expect me to say it is fine, expect me to say I am happy with it.

I began working on a new prose piece today, a piece about pop-culture that I expect to be somewhat short,  It might be that I can find a good place to sell it, actually, as I think it is about a popular subject.  I have tried working on this piece before, actually, and had a lot of trouble getting it to work.  The last time, I kind of tried to work my way in, but this time I just started out by stating a general version of my thesis in a more direct and bold way.  In truth, I know that is probably the best way to start any writing project of this sort, but it is easy to forget that when doing the work.  When I was an undergraduate I had the fortune of working with a professor named Ilja Wachs who was a legend at Sarah Lawrence, where I went to college.  Shortly after I handed in my first paper, he sat me down in his office and looked at me and said, "Will, I know you can write, and I know you can think, but you know too much about how to write an essay.  Next time, don't write

I Thought I Might Have Already but I do not know for sure so I will do what I must to have certainty. I do not want to keep doubting, wondering, do not want it to remain unsettled. It shouldn't matter, not really, not all that much. If I have done it, if I have not: it is a minor thing and is not important. I do not believe it will matter, but I cannot be certain. It is always the uncertainty. I wish I were better at being alright in that place, inside the question itself. I think, maybe, that is a place for possibilities