Would That I Might

Today was a long day, and I had a rather stressful morning, but fortunately the afternoon calmed down quite a bit.  This weekend should be better.  Melissa and I do not have any obligations and my family are out of town, so we can just focus on things around the house for a bit and relax a little.  I do have to go over to pick up the mail at both my Mother's and brother's houses, but that should not take very long, really.  Melissa told me that she has some stuff she wants to try and get done, and I told her I would help.  It is mostly just cleaning up around the house and going through things that have been piling up this week but I know that it will help her a lot if we can get this stuff done.  Really, I am not always the best at this kind of stuff, but I promised Melissa to give her my best effort and I honest expect that it won't be too big a deal, though I know that could just be wishful thinking. 

It Cannot Be Only That It must be that, I know, I understand what it must be for you, what is required, what is imposed on me, but it cannot be only that: I have my part, too, my impositions to exert, another way of doing and being that cannot be ignored if it is to be mine, if I am to be there. It is not clear how to have all of that, how it can be both at once, but I know it must be that, and it must be possible. I trust myself to know that it is possible. I hope you will understand. If you cannot or do not, or are unwilling, are not open to it, there is nothing to say. I do not think it can be at all if it cannot be both. Maybe that means it cannot be at all, and I would be sad, but I am hopeful, right now. I still  believe it can be done.

I have been having a rather difficult and stressful week, even more than usual, but my writing has been going well a lot of the time.  It may be that I have been able to draw on those feelings to propel the work, or it might be that it is unrelated, or that my being kind of tired and unfocused has allowed me to step back and do the work without the same degree of mental scrutiny, freeing me up in some sense.  Anyway I think of explaining it seems somewhat counterintuitive, and it is probably best when these things happen not to question them.  In an ideal world, I would like to really analyze the situation and figure out what the factors are that have impacted my writing this week, but I am happy to just accept it right now.  Really, I am a bit concerned that trying to figure out what is going on will just undermine whatever it is that's working right now and I would rather not mess with it.

They Will Go and I will not join, that is the plan, for them to go without me. But it is good, I am part  of the plan, am alright with it. I don't need to be there. They will go. If she agrees they will go. I don't know if she will understand that it is still  about the same things, about me, about us. My not being there is not changing that. It is only  that she is so cruel when I am in the room, that she might open her eyes if they discuss it when I am not present.

I finished up my work and everything, but I am not feeling all that great right at the moment.  It is mostly just a bad headache, and I am hoping I just need to get a bit of rest and it will pass, so I am going to just finish up with this so I can be done for tonight.  I wish I had it in me to write more of an entry than this for tonight.

"Do Not Worry" is not a good thing to say or at all useful.  Anyone who thinks about it knows, and even to explain why is just too much of a cliche, and still it is easy to say it, to let it come out, most especially in these moments when it would be best to say something true and real and that might help or at least feel good to hear.

Tonight, for whatever reason, I have been finding it very easy to do my writing.  It happens sometimes, and I think it has, as well, been one of the times when the work is actually good and not just rushed.  Indeed, I have not been rushing at all.  I just have been in the right mental state, I suppose.  I would like to believe that this might be a sign, that I might be moving forwards in my work and tonight is a step in that process.  I do not feel that way simply because I had less difficulty with the writing tonight, or maybe I do.  I know I have been struggling a fair bit the last few weeks, not entirely, but consistently.  I've been finding myself feeling a lot of uncertainty and doubt about various pieces I've been working on, and wondering if I really know how to approach any of it, and tonight, I just sort of accepted that I don't know and that maybe that is part of the process right now, or can be, at least.  As a writer, I am fascinated by ways of crafting fiction

A Breaking Open has happened, but not when it was expected and not when it was noticed, though it still happened and still mattered and things were changing even when it was not known. It happened anyhow. It did not require anyone's attention once it had begun, once it had opened. Whatever came spilling out, whatever was freed, whatever it was that was not considered or thought of, it did not need anyone to know anything more. It began.  It was  just a beginning, but soon, more. It will become. It has gotten this far, now it will become.

I did my writing tonight, but I still haven't gotten to any of the other stuff today.  I should, but I am tired and don't really feel like it right at the moment, but I also know that is just an excuse and I need to do it.  I will probably get some of it done after I finish this blog post.  I am feeling overwhelmed by all of it right now, and my instinct is just to procrastinate, but I know that the best thing is to take care of some of it, that getting a bit done will remove a bit of the pressure.  If nothing else, it might help me to sleep a bit better tonight.

You Tell Me about The Luncheon My mother made him stay for lunch, you tell me, but he wanted to go instead, after the lecture he wanted to leave.  That is George,  it is how he behaves.  It is why people dislike him, but I understand it, understand the way he feels, and I understand being made to stay. If she could have, my mother would have had me go, I think.  Or maybe not, maybe she thinks it is better I wasn't there. I would have liked to see George, but even if I had gone, it is clear my mother would have let them place me at a different table.

I've been slacking off a bit on some things I need to do this week.  It isn't my writing, but other related work to do with submissions and other efforts to get my work out there, and I should be more enthusiastic about it, probably, but I feel like it is just a lot of effort and I am not expecting anything substantial in return.  I recognize that some of this is necessary stuff, that I need to do it.  The real truth is that I need to feel like I am doing something that doesn't feel like it is just a wasted effort, that feels like it is a realistic path towards my goals, that I am taking real steps and progressing, not just putting all this effort out and remaining in the same place.  I know that does not actually exist though, that the only way I am going to achieve what I am seeking is through this process.  I also recognize that not working to achieve those goals will never be alright with me, either, that it would be labelling myself as a complete failure and giving up

You Trapped Me in This I want you to fix it, that is what I need if you care at all as you claim to, but I know you will say  I am unreasonable because it can't be fixed, not the way I mean, and I know that, but it is no more  unreasonable than you, than what you did. The damage is your fault, is the result of your choice, of what you chose to do. I do not know what to say but that it needs to be fixed. I know that is not possible, but it is still necessary.

I have been feeling pretty stressed the last several days.  There's been a lot of drama going on with people in my life and I have been feeling drained from it.  In some ways, that makes it more difficult to write, but in others, it makes writing, if not easier, better in some ways.  I don't mean that the writing is improved in terms of the output, though that might be true, at least some of the time, but better in the sense of my own experience.  It is difficult, a lot of the time, to get into that mental space when things are hectic and I am feeling overwhelmed, but when I finally do, it can be much more valuable for me, I suppose.  This isn't even just about the ability to write about things to vent, though I do that as well, but more about the value of entering that creative mental space.  I am not even certain how much is about that creative space itself and how much is just about stepping away from the rest, just clearing it out for a few minutes in order to focus on

I Will Write about That I know that I will.  It is there and is waiting, it is me who is not ready, yet, but I will be, soon. I did try to do it, and that matters even when nothing comes, even if I decide it is not coming now, it matters, and I will keep trying until I open up enough. I know that I must.

I have a few ideas in mind for possible stories at the moment, but they are all kind of abstract.  I am, also, working on several other ideas at the moment, but I may play around anyway.  I can always rotate between specific pieces, if I get into too much for me to keep up with everything all at the same time.  It might also help take some pressure off when I am writing on a specific piece, knowing how much else I have going on.  That certainly is part of the impact that writing so much poetry has had on my practice.  

I Need Help And I Am Waiting I asked for help and am waiting, but nothing was done, nothing has been said.  I need help. I went through the process, did all that I was told and now I am waiting. It cannot be left this way, it cannot be this forever. Even another few days is too long. I have to know what will be done, how it can be resolved. Do not tell me I did all of it and there is nothing else, is not any help. I am waiting.  If you cannot help, at least answer now, do not take even longer.

I am not certain what to write about here, tonight.  It is not as if that is very unusual, really, but I had a rather upsetting afternoon and I am still dealing with it.  I don't want to get into the specifics, suffice it to say that it involves a lot of family drama and hurt feelings in multiple directions.  I am feeling somewhat hurt about things, but I am also aware of the ways that I need to just take responsibility for aspects of this and just move on from it, if possible.  I know I am going to be the one who gets most of the blame for things right now, but that is not because I am really the one who caused the problem, I am just part of this, and I am rather peripheral to the specifics involved, but I know that doesn't matter right now.  I just have to accept the role I have played in this and the blame that is coming to me.

These Wrongs I did not start  by accepting that you are right, that I made a mistake. That is the start, is the place my apology can begin. It is not right for me to begin with anything else. There are issues beyond this,  are things that came up when this began, but they are mine and do not concern you in the same way, are not the things I should mention. I am sorry that I did, that I am wasting these lines to say even more about that. I should just apologize and let you know I am sorry.  I won't defend myself. I could.  I have much I could say, but I realize I should not, that it is better  if I just say I am sorry and let you be upset.

I am starting the process of conceptualizing a full length poetry collection.  I've got more than enough work, I know that, but I tend to think of a collection as something cohesive, and preferably with a structure to provide something along the lines of narrative.  It may not be a story or anything of that sort, might only be thematic connections or a progression of ideas, but the goal is still to weave the poems together into a larger composite work designed to create a complete experience for the reader.  I want there to be a sense of propulsion and an understanding that the poems are connected and working together within the whole of the collection.  I feel that I have found ways to do this in shorter manuscripts that I've crafted before, but trying to put this to work on a larger piece feels more difficult at the moment.  I just have to trust myself, though.  In the past, I often didn't have a really clear idea of what was going to emerge when I began, I just had a pil

Last Minute Change I decided against that plan but do not worry, I am still here and will make certain it is still done right, even if not in that way. There are other options and I will find the right one. It is only that plan that I did not like. It had details I did not trust, I felt uncomfortable with the details of that particular plan. I am certain  I can find another way that is just as good, I am certain of that. Do not worry, there is time and I am promising you.

I am sending out a whole battery of submissions right at the moment, and I know that the reality is these will almost entirely become rejections.  I have been through this process before, and I am not foolish enough to think that their is likely to be a significant change from the way things have been for me in the past.  There are times when I have gone a long while with no acceptances, even, at times, surpassing the hundred rejections that one is often told to seek out.  That is the reality of trying to get work into journals today.  That does not mean that I am alright with the rejection, or that it won't hurt me.  I have never been all that good at dealing with such things, and I take it personally even knowing that I should not.  I don't choose to respond this way, and I don't expect that I will change, even if I want to.  In part, I think it is connected to my neurology, but that is just speculation and might be an excuse.  Who can say about any such thing?  (even say

The Evening Was All Quite Pleasant until then, until  just before we were at home, just after the turn into the neighborhood, the car covered in the darkness of local roads, that was when you began to speak, to tell us what we need to do, to tell us, to let us know again. Why do you think this will help? I wish you understood, but if you had it would be different, even if these problems were still the same, they would be different, if you had understood, if you had wanted to understand

I received a bit of potentially good news tonight, though I don't feel I can really discuss it other than to mention it as vaguely as I have here.  If anything comes of it, I will be certain to say more, but for now, it is just a possibility that I am excited about.  I am trying, really, not to get all that excited because I know that it may not be anything in the end, and I don't want to set myself up for disappointment, but I also am trying to be hopeful and positive.  I've not had a great deal to feel that way about, recently, and I really want to believe that things are moving in the right direction for once.  Even being able to think that it might actually be changing is, I think, a good thing.

I Was Incorrect about Her Plans and when it will be that she is coming, but she is coming, at least. It is sooner, though, that is not a problem, I do not think it will be, but it is the truth of it and I am not prepared, not all the way prepared. I suppose that is a lie, or not a lie, but also not the truth.  I am  not prepared but it is not the timing. I am uncomfortable but I know it is important and it will be difficult, it cannot be otherwise. I am feeling the imbalance, am feeling afraid, worried, concerned for what is to come. None of that would be different if the schedule was the one  I had assumed it to be, and it would all be worse if she had no plans to come at all.

I am glad that I finished up my work relatively early tonight.  I don't really have a lot to add or anything much to write about here tonight. I am just making this entry because it is part of my routine, the thing that I do to finish up my writing for the evening.  If I didn't do it, I would feel my work was incomplete, even if all that I write is an entry like this one, just noting the need to do it and that I have finished the rest of my writing for the evening, and now, have done enough to think of this as complete as well.  

The Appointment I need to make certain that she plans to come, but I don't ask her, each time I do not ask. I forget to ask.  I don't want to ask her and be told  that she forgot, that it is not important enough for her to remember, that it is not happening. I think, it is too late to make it better if it is not happening. If it is happening I will find out when it is time. If not, why know any sooner? Why would I want to be hurt any sooner?

I am feeling rather down tonight, which is not all that surprising considering.  I miss my father, and there is so much else that just feels like it has gone the wrong way since he died, and I can't help but connect all of that.  It is ridiculous to think of everything in that way, but it is still my experience.  My dad died, and then the world went completely bonkers in many ways, and things changed in my family in ways I didn't expect or imagine, as well.  And tonight, it all hits me.  I suppose that there is a degree to which all of that is natural and normal and to be expected, to a certain extent.  Even taking that into consideration, though, it still feels, a lot of the time, like the world turned insane without my dad around any longer.

I Should Tell You but I keep silent because I don't think it will be any good if I say it.  It will be hurtful, you will  tell me I am mean and ask me what I want you to do. There is no good choice. I don't have answers for what to do.   Still, there must be an understanding between us, there must be. You tell me you want it to be better, want to accept the consequences of your misdeeds, but you have run away and done as you wish. There are responsibilities that require you to follow the path you laid before yourself. If you don't accept that, it is impossible for us to heal  what is wrong  between us. I am sorry to tell you. I know you think consequence are for other people, at least that is the way you act.

Just a few days ago we marked the first year since Anne, Melissa's mother, died, and now we have reached the date of my own father's death.  It is seven years now, I think, though I might be wrong about that.  It could be six years.  The last week I've been feeling his absence quite a lot.  I don't know what more to say about it right now, really.

It Will Never Be Over And Done Not in that way, not in a way that means it is gone, that nothing remains to consider. There is still a problem that will not be solved, even when it is bettter that is not an ending. It still requires attention, there is still action to be taken. It will never be a thing that is not to be considered. It will never be done in that way, it is not a possibility. It can be dealt with, but not in a way that means it won't return.

I wrote the lyric for a short song today.  It is not anything complex or sophisticated, but it is enough to be, at the very least, a song.  I suppose that it would need music for it to be a song, but I am not thinking about that right at the moment.  It is more the fact of having done it.  I've often thought about attempting to write song lyrics, but I have never done it before, and thinking about doing it, I felt uncertain and a bit fearful.  I don't have any training in writing lyrics, don't know any actual song forms.  Of course, I have heard songs throughout my life and I know how to work with rhyme and meter.  Even so, I didn't feel like I knew how to write a song at all.  In the end, it just took sitting down and doing it, just accepting that it would be whatever it would be and going for it.  I don't know that it is all that good, but I can say that I did it, and that feels important to me.

You Want It to Be Done to have what happened be in the past, but I am living in the aftermath. It has not ended: each day is more. You think you did it and now it is done, but the impact changed things in ways you knew would hurt me, and those changes cannot be unmade.

I think that I am getting back on target with my fiction again,.  I had a bit of difficulty because I felt like I was just spinning around with it for a while.  I was writing it, but I didn't feel as if it was progressing, and I wasn't really all that certain of how to get it to work, so I just let myself get a bit wild.  I allowed the narration to step out from the story and shifted the focus to a different scene, and now I am feeling a bit better, though I am still nervous.  Really, the problem is that I don't feel confident in writing this story at the moment because I am trying to write it as something more traditional, more normal, and that is throwing me off.  I suppose that I don't think of stories in those ways.  It may be that I can't really write the story in the way I was imagining it at first, that I need to approach it in a way that is more aligned with how I think about writing naturally.  The problem is, though, that I want to try to write something m

Why Should You Get to be free, to go back there, get to live that life even now,  after you insisted on having this, on making it yours. I cannot escape what you did, the trap you made out of my life is still sprung. You did that, you made it clear you had to have what you wanted even knowing the destruction that would come. You chose to hurt me so you could have it and now that it is yours you change your plans and you think it is fine to do as you wish, to not do as you said you would. You insisted it had to be this way, insisted it was needed, and now, it is not true, you have other plans instead. The consequences are only for me. You are the one who gets whatever you want. I have said nothing. I do not know what the point is. You will only think I am being unreasonable. It is just more of you doing whatever you want. I should not be surprised.

I began a new project a few nights ago that feels somewhat crazy, and I am not at all certain what it is yet, really, or if it is anything at all right now.  I am thinking of it as theatrical, but at the moment it is really just a stream of consciousness rant in which I am discussing the question of what I am writing and what it should be about.  Also, I am thinking that it wants to be a musical, but I have not written any songs before, not even just lyrics, so I feel somewhat out of my element with that idea.  I think, though, all of these aspects might be what I need.  I think I need the creative kick of something different and new, something that will give me a bit of room to experiment and feel like I am playing and discovering.  I don't know what I will make, but I am going to give myself the freedom to find out.

I Do Not Have The Knack for that way of doing, for knowing those things and understanding in those ways. It would be helpful, good, too, is a word to use. It would allow me to align, to produce what is wanted, what is considered appropriate. I have tried to follow those rules but I cannot. It is not that I rebel. They are not compatible.

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary for the death of Melissa's mother, Anne, and that is not an easy thing.  She was with me through the death of my father and all that came after, and I am doing my best to offer her support through this, of course, I know she has mourned my father, and I have missed her mother, as well.  In the end, I just want to be able to offer her as much support as I know she has provided me.

What It Seems to Be is not accurate to what exists, to the experience of what exists, but the words only allow what seems to be, not anyrhing more. It is the rest that matters. It is already present, just not in the words.

I have an idea that I am hoping to explore which I think might provide me some insight, possibly, for my submissions strategy.  It is another idea of mine that I probably don't have the capacity to implement, but this time it is actually something that is realistically possible and somewhat practical as well.  The idea is largely about using machine learning algorithms to help in the process of developing submissions for various journals.  I have a basic concept of how this could be done, though I realize it would take quite a bit to get it to work, and it would be impractical for it to be very broad at first.  The initial goal would be to just focus in with the effort.  I've tried to enlist some help for this already, as I do have a friend that works in this area who seems willing to provide some assistance.  I know that I am not really capable of this, at least not without a great deal of knowledge I don't have, or the work of others who have already learned those things,

I Have An Explanation A reason has formed in my mind to explain why I do not like it when you do that particular thing, and it is a good reason, is solid and has rationality, can be understood as a reason.  It has taken me time to think about this, has required care and concentration.  I had to consider it for a long while, in many different ways, had to think about it again even after that, but I have a reason, and I think you will understand it, maybe, that it might resonate.  I have to admit, though: I am not certain it is the truth, I am not certain their is a truth behind why I feel this way.

I had an idea for a short story tonight that I think I should try to write, but it is rather dark.  It is an alternate history piece in the spirit of Philp K. Dick, and I do think the core idea is really good and somewhat thought provoking, but I know it is also a story that would take a lot to make work, and I still only have a vague notion of things beyond the most general aspects of the story.  I know quite a bit more about the setting, and the premise I am playing with suggests a number of other details, but the specifics of the plot are still undetermined at this point.  As I said, it is a rather dark idea for a story and might be a bit uncomfortable to write, but I think the idea is strong and worth pursuing.

There Are Otters, Now a pair of them who have come and taken up residency inside the park's lake. I have seen video but have not  caught up with them in person.  I worry, though.  I know there is also an alligator who resides in those waters. I don't know if that is a concern. Maybe alligators do not often eat otters, but I worry about it. I imagine I would worry about it even more if I were an otter myself.

I am continuing on with things after what I wrote last night and I am feeling a bit refocused and somewhat freed in my work.  It reminds me that  I am not bound by a specific set of rules in my writing, and that is helpful to me at the moment.  At times it can be easy to sort of build an idea of what a piece of writing needs to be, either in terms of the individual piece or as a more general assessment, and that can even be a helpful thing in times, as it provides structure and can help form a way of transforming an understanding the interaction between form and content into a technique for writing, but it is also true that it can be very limiting as well. I think I was getting too rigid in what I wanted to write in this case and I was pushing myself to keep going, and now I am feeling like I have more room to play and figure it out.  

You Must Be Present to Take Action Too little is possible in the situation that remains, it is not conducive. Think of the constraints with time and distance, with no chances fitting, none of what is needed. You do not realize what is required and I cannot tell you without being a villain, but I do not know what to say. There is a truth to it. You will refuse it and it will still be true.

I kind of threw a curve at myself tonight in terms of my new novel.  I have been working on a scene that was just going on and on with dialogue and I was feeling a bit uncertain of where it was heading or why it even mattered for the story, but I kept writing it and pushing forwards.  Tonight, though, I just decided to write something that exists in the book and is coming from the narrator but also addresses the things I was thinking and feeling about the scene.  I am not certain I succeeded, but it is pushing me into a new space and I think that it is a good shift.  

I Know That I Meant What I Said and it was important to say it,| at the time it was, but now I cannot recall what it was that I told you.  I know it was a good thing and you cried, but good crying, not because of cruelty or being hurt.  It was acceptance. I know that was part of it. I do not know the words. Does that matter? I think the words were only things, did not do enough. it was another thing that was shared, a thing that was not words even if they contained it. It may be that I drank too much, that is another explanation.

I keep writing on this new novel but I am just making so little progress with it right now.  It is just going very slow and I am not even sure I have the real thread of it any longer.  Maybe I have gotten lost.  I think that the best thing for me is to just keep at it, though.  I don't want to quit or give up on it.  The core idea remains a good one and I am still interested in it, I just feel like I've got to get myself into the right groove with it.  It has been very slow, but I have been writing on it every day and I am sure that if I keep at it, at some point, there will be a shift and I will find my way again.  I can't imagine that I could keep writing and working on it with this kind of diligence and not wind up with something eventually.  I just have to keep going, I think, even when I am uncertain about what I am doing.  I trust that process.  I believe that it is inevitable that if I continue it will lead somewhere, even if I am not certain of things now.  In some

It Would Be Better to Have What Was Planned Be What Will Be Done but it is not that way any longer and you will pretend it was a choice for me but you did not allow that, you made it so clear you wanted it this way. I should have said no, but you wanted this. You did not wait. I need you to take it back and make it better, but you cannot do that. It is impossible to do. It was the same the last time when you did it. We are still dealing with that. You never learn, or maybe you do not care.

I am cranking back up my submissions once more, and I know it is going to be difficult.  I have enough experience that I expect it to be rather brutal, if I am honest.  Any submission I send out has low odds of being accepted.  It is not as if I don't realize that this is all normal, that it is the way these things go, but even knowing that doesn't make it any better for me, and I won't pretend to be thick skinned about it just because it is the attitude that is considered appropriate.  I am afraid that my sensitivity to this and the way it upsets me at times is probably going to do me harm, but I don't think that is reasonable.  I can't help that I am sensitive to this, and I wonder how my own neurodiversity plays into this.  I certainly think that their are aspects of my thinking around the issue that are impacted by my mental particularities, but it is hard to say that with any real certainty, since I have to believe that almost anything I am or do is going to be

There Are Many but only one is the one and the rest are not, are nothing, or might be something, but something not wanted. It won't be good if it is not right, if it is not the right one. The rest are not good and it won't be good when they are what comes. The problem is there are so many, so many wrong and only one that is the right one. It won't work out, most likely, at least. I don't have hope any longer. I thought, once, the chances were different but experience has taught me. I don't know what to do. I have no way away that is not empty, and that is the thing I must avoid. I must find a way to change these things that can never be changed. That is all  that can help.

I just noticed that, somehow, I only added a poem last night and don't seem to have written a blog entry.  I suppose that it is bound to happen, and I can't pretend that it is a very big deal, really.  Rather, I don't want to think of it as a big deal.  I cannot change it at this point, and I am not really certain what happened.  I think that I did write something, but it is possible that I never uploaded it and it got lost, though I would expect it to have saved a draft, even if it was never posted.  I cannot say, and it seems a rather silly thing to worry about.  If nothing else, it at least gave me a little bit to write about for tonight, though, for once, I sort of had an idea before I started this entry, as I was having a good writing night in a way that has not happened in a bit.  I wrote one poem in particular that I feel good about.  It is not the poem itself, more the type of poem it represents and the way it reflects aspects of poetry I have written throughout my

Your Request I think it will be  that way, not what was planned but that instead. Things occurred and it was requested and I do not know what is best, what is right. It will be hard: there is a loss that must be. One thing takes the place of another. It was mine, but this is another thing. It may be needed, and there is a reason, a gain to be had. It matters, yes, but the other way: it is for me, is a thing I need for myself.

Rooftop Sermon The wind is so fickle it will point the rooster any which way it wishes, will turn it all round and about. The vanity of it, that is the point and the pointing, though clouds seem fine enough and don't complain often about the way they are treated, the management seems to manage it. Could be that is just a front, or, in this case, is not a front, is not the front coming over the horizon, darkness above a whitening sea.

I keep attempting to write about certain things, often personal events or specific ideas that feel intimate and personal for me.  I'll have it in my head how I can express what I am thinking, even down to the specific language, and it will feel like I have it right.  As these are often topics I've attempted to write about before, I am often very pleased to feel I have figured it out, but when I go to do the actual writing, the whole thing falls apart and I can't make it work.  It can be very frustrating.  Of course, I also realize that each such attempt moves me closer to getting there.  I know that the focus is often what most matters most, that each time I try, I am working towards getting it right.  

I Was Not There, But I Heard A Lot One of them spoke and said what it was that had been said before, what was meant by it, that is the claim at least. Maybe it is true or maybe they do not even know. Who can be certain when it is so long? And some of the truth is probably dead too, is probably buried too. That is an assumption. How could I know anything? I was apart from it all and didn't even notice, didn't try to notice, was not there. I was absent. Maybe that is the answer. It could be it was the emptiness. I should find out, should ask for myself, or at least find out what was said already.

 I have had a busy day, running around since early in the morning.  Melissa had an appointment at around eight, so I drove her and afterwards we went out for breakfast.  When we got home, I made a few phone calls and dealt with a few things.  A bit after that, I had to deal with getting my new suit from the tailor.  It had to be altered a bit, but I have an event tomorrow night so I wanted to be sure I had it to wear.  In the afternoon, I had to go out again to do some more errands, as well as some grocery shopping.  We came home and I made dinner, which really didn't go well at first.  I wound up having to change plans when I discovered that certain items we had planned to use had gone off, but I put together an alternate plan that worked out alright.  I still felt pretty stupid, honestly.   The crisis could easily have been avoided if I had exercised just a bit more care in preparing.  On top if it all, my brother and his girlfriend just arrived in town this evening and I am hopi

The Call I want to but I wonder if it is wrong, is an intrustion. It might be. I don't know. I am not sure I care much right now, though I should, I should respect you. But that is not what you have done and I wonder what to learn from that. Is it best to do  what I wish you had, even now when it is too late and cannot change or to be selfish, to not care  and show you how it feels and maybe enjoy myself?

I received another rejection today.  Recently, I sent out a bunch of new submissions and this is probably the first of those that I have a reply from.  It always gets me down, which I suppose is natural.  I know other writers who have different attitudes towards things than I do, and it is probably healthier for them, but the truth is that I am never going to be able to accept it.  Really, I don't know what else to say about it other than to admit that I want to have some real success in my writing career, and not in another decade or two.  I feel terrible even admitting to that desire, as if it makes me selfish or stupid or both, or, perhaps, something worse than that which I can't quite name, but it is how I feel.  I invested in becoming a writer because I was persuaded to believe it would be a path for me in my life where I would have real support and actual opportunities.  If that was all a lie, it is not alright, and I am not going to pretend that it isn't the truth of

I Do Not Accept What Was Said I demand you take it back and say another thing that I will accept, that is what is (do you realize) necessary, it is. Do you realize what is wrong, or am I just mad, a crazed pigeon of modernity, pushed too far by the all-brutal of these designs. You did nothing: it must be nothing at all. It wasn't a thing done, it was not anyone who did a thing. It was just rushing without anything else. Do not think there is an excuse or that I will heal from this.  It is not possible for it to be less unless it changes. Take on the nothing of what is here, make it real and return it when that is true. Otherwise, say it with knowldege that it is harm. Admit to that. The honesty is an improvement.

There are times when I write something that I thing might be very good, but it is honest in a way that might cause pain to someone I care about.  A part of me doesn't really care about that, honestly. Another part of, to be even more honest, is actual cruel enough to want to do that harm.  I am sure that is part of how I wind up writing things of this sort, at least some of the time.  But much of the time, those things are purged, at least somewhat, by the act of writing, or, even if the feelings have not changed or been vented out safely, I still have enough awareness and regard for others that I don't just let them go.  At the same time, though, I do save this work and hold on to it, as if I am just waiting.

What Is Prepared is not yet appropriate: what is needed first is another thing entirely, and I am afraid the rest won't keep if we have to go through and not around. Through is slow, has requirements for what must be done, but there is not another way. No, that is not the truth, it is just a matter of ritual and not breaking the pattern. That should not matter, maybe, or it does matter though it makes no sense. I do not have answers but I trust what has worked. It may only be in the mind, but the mind is a place where I keep most important things.