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Showing posts from June, 2023

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Five

The last week has been very stressful, and last night I let it get to me in a way that is quite uncommon.  I think it was the first time that I chose not to do any writing at all in years.  It was the right decision, I think, as I was quite tired and didn't really feel that well.  I needed to just get to bed, I think.  Still, I feel guilty for not having done the work.  I was planning to try making it up tonight, but I didn't do that.  Melissa and I are leaving NY tomorrow and will be driving the ten hours to Columbus, Ohio, so I want to finish up and get ready for bed.  It may be easier for me to get more written once we arrive there.

Poem: It will be a journey of many hours and we will be tired

It will be a journey of many hours and we will be tired It will tire us. It will not be pleasant, I do not expect that. I should be prepared for it to be that way. I am aware enough. I do not think it makes much difference: I want to leave and I want to arrive, the hours between I could do without.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Four

 I am exhausted right now.  To the point that I have been having difficulty staying awake to write, but I am almost done now, so I can see if my tiredness translates to real sleep 

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Three

I think that something interesting might be happening in the novel I am writing, but I don't want to jinx that.  As I have said before, it has felt a bit distant and has not been going the way I had hoped.  It is a different sort of book that I am attempting, so it is not that surprising, really. I've been writing, but it has gone slow and felt a bit dull, to be honest, but all of a sudden, I think that things are happening which I didn't anticipate or expect and which might propel it forward.  I chose to dedicate myself to getting this piece finished, whatever that winds up meaning, and I always sort of trusted that, at some point, the story would just have to emerge and take over in a real way, and I am starting to feel a bit of excitement about whatever is going to happen.

Poem: We Were Glad to Be There

We Were Glad to Be There Or you were, at least, which is enough to make me glad, if not in the moment or in my experiences, in my consideration. I found it unpleasant for myself, but that is fine. It would be no better to have not been here, not been present. And it mattered that you enjoyed yourself. It was very good to have that be true. I do not know if there are many things that I have done to bring joy to anyone, and you are the one I most want to receive that gift.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Two

My mother was very upset today.  I can understand her feelings, as she is going through some major, and unexpected, changes at the moment.  I wish that she could be more honest about how she is feeling and would allow us to offer more support, but I think she has a fairly set approach already.  It is difficult, and, beyond the challenges it presents, it would require being vulnerable for her, which may be too much right now.

Poem: Do You Wish That We Could Go

Do You Wish That We Could Go right away and not wait and, also, not return at least all that soon? I know this place is not the same and it was never  the way it is for me, was not that for you, whatever it might be, it cannot be that. It will all be left behind when I am an exile. I know there is not another home.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-One

Melissa and I spent today watching the NYC Pride Parade.  It was the first time Melissa has been able to attend and I think it meant a lot to her.  A whole lot of positive energy and joy, which she deserves, but which has been difficult for us to find recently.  I am really glad we came to be here for it, though this trip has been difficult in many other ways.

Poem: I Do Not Want Ot to Break

I Do Not Want Ot to Break or for it to be broken already, but I think it could be. If it is broken I do not know what can help. There may be no repair. If that is how it must be, I understand it, but so not think i will recover.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred

I baked some rainbow cookies for Pride.  My Mom's apartment in New York is on Christopher Street a block from Stonewall, and we have a great view of the parade, so she is hosting a party.  It took a fair bit of work to get the cookies right, but I think they came out well.  They certainly look good, and I liked the one that u tried, but I know that my opinion is a bit biased.

Poem: I Have to Hurry

I Have to Hurry There is a limit and it is near. If I am too slow, do not finish soon enough, it will be bad, I will need to wait  for a replenishment. I do not have the time for that.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Nine

It has been a stressful day, and tonight has brought an unexpected turn that I was not prepared for and am not ready to discuss in any detail.  A part of me is hoping that if I say nothing, it won't be true, but I do not really believe that.

Poem: Over

Over It was and now is not, suddenly that is the truth instead, the other way is over and this is how it has become. I do not know what I can say. I wish it were another way, wish the way it was before was not gone.  It happened, though, has occurred.  I do not think it can return.  I hope it will, but that is to be expected when the change will hurt this much.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Eight

I slept pretty well last night, but I was so sleep deprived from the night before that I am still exhausted.  I believe that I will be able to sleep tonight, as well.  It certainly hope so.  Things have been stressful over the past few days and I think it would help quite a bit to feel refreshed.

Poem: I Waited Just a Few Minutes And It Was Too Late

I Waited Just a Few Minutes And It Was Too Late but it is fine.  I do not care. It may be best, considering what happened(I tripped and fell into the street). I am assuming it would be the same, that it would be different but not in every way. I cannot know.  If it were an entire change, the whole shifted by one alteration, I would not have fallen at all, which would be better.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Eight

I only got about an hour of sleep last night, so I am quite exhausted.   I think it was mostly just stress. At least I feel certain I will sleep tonight. 

Poem: The Smallest Offering

The Smallest Offering is not different, might be the same. I cannot know. I am not one who gets to know.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Seven

We made it to New York without incident.  Melissa was worried about avoiding I-95 in Philly, as I mentioned last night, but it was not a problem at all.  To be honest, when she first raised the issue, I told her that I didn't think we went that way to begin with, as I have made the drive many times and do not recall going through Pennsylvania at all, unless I was visiting my friends who live there.  I told her that I thought we Norma play stayed east and went via the Jersey Turnpike, but my sense of direction is bad enough, however, that when she disagreed I trusted her on the matter.  It turned out I was right for once.  I am trying not to get too attached to the feeling.

Poem: It Was Gone Already

It Was Gone Already I knew that, have been to the place where it arrived, know it is there, but I am still upset at the absence, shocked by it, even, as if it were unexpected. I have no explanation beyond the knowledge that it seems wrong, the change is only necessary because we were betrayed.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Six

Melissa and I made it to Richmond.  We had a bit of trouble with traffic in North Carolina.  There was a major accident and the entire highway was stopped.  I think we sat for almost an hour before we were able to get off.  Once we got past that, it was pretty smooth sailing, at least.  I am not certain what tomorrow will be.  First of all, the DC area is always difficult, but beyond that, we have to reroute because of the I-95 closure in Philadelphia.  I think that Melissa mapped it and said the alternate route wasn't much longer.  Whatever happens, at least it is going to be our last day on the road for now.

Poem: I know, I Must Say Nothing

I know, I Must Say Nothing I fear it will come out. I know that I cannot let it.   It would be unkind of me, though I know, the way it is now, what has happened, is worse, makes each thing done worse, even knowing that, I should say nothing to you. It would not make it better. Even if it changed things, rearranged the situation to reflect my own wants, it would mean something terrible.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Five

Melissa and I made it to Savannah.  The drive was fine.  I was a bit worried this morning because there were a number of weather advisories for the area where we live, including the regions we were driving through, but we only had a bit of rain, most of it before we even left.  I think we drove through some mild showers, but nothing that even lasted very long.  We hit the road about nine this morning and arrived at the hotel around 4:30 in the afternoon, so a little over seven hours, all told, including rest stops.  I am hopeful that tomorrow will work out similarly.

Poem: It Was Fine Enough

It Was Fine Enough though not equivalent as a substitute. On its own, without the comparison I would be quite happy, but that is not the situation. It was quite good; what was missing is still much better.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Four

I am going to keep this short so that I can wrap things up for tonight.  Melissa and I are planning to leave early in the morning.  We are hoping to be on the road before eight, so I don't want to be up much longer.  We are going to be driving up to Savannah, which is only supposed to be about a six hour drive, so it is not all that bad.  I have a metal plate in my right ankle, and it can get a bit stiff if I am sitting in the car for too long, but six is fine, as long as there are few stops to get up and stretch.  I am still feeling a bit apprehensive about the trip right now, but I hope that Melissa and I will be able to enjoy our time travelling together, at least a bit.

Poem: It Was A Special Thing

It Was A Special Thing Should be, now, but is not, not after, no.  It was  but it is not. There is a tear,  what was right is ripped. It is small, is not important, is too minor. It should not matter, it should not. I know that, but, still: it does.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Three

I recorded myself reciting another set of poems tonight.  There are still a bunch that haven't been used from my last session, but with Melissa and I travelling, I figured it was better to do it now, with the recording setup that I have at home.  In some ways, I still find the whole process of recording these recitations difficult.  It is not that the actual process is all that complicated: I simply sit down at the computer and read the poems off the screen while recording.  There are, of course, many times that I wind up recording a single poem multiple times.  Often I don't even get through the whole poem before I stop the recording.  The thing is, this is still very new to me, and I am not entirely comfortable with it.  There is something that feels odd to me about reading the poems out loud in an empty room with only a machine listening.  I am used to reading my work, but generally it is with a live audience, and that is a very different.  The connection with the audience h

Poem: We Must

We Must We go, must go, will go, I must, so you will, and you must, so I will, and we go, we do and we must: it is not a wanting thing, is not that, is the other, is the must, is needs, is demands and needs and obligation.  I must, and so we go and you go and you must, too, now, because I must, and I must because you must, when you must, and that comes, too, is coming, too. We go and then go again, because we must and still there is more, more musts.  They are ours, now. I should not call it mine or yours.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-Two

 I am feeling a lot of stress regarding the trip to New York right now.  My mother has already made it clear that she is expecting a great deal of help and has many things that she wants done while we are there, and she isn't very sensitive to my emotionality.  This move is quite upsetting, as are the circumstances that necessitated it, and my feelings around it are pretty raw at present, not to mention that I am somewhat angry about certain aspects it.  I don't want to get into all of that here, to be honest, except acknowledging that I am feeling a lot of anxiety about it all.  I am not sure what to do to prepare other than to know I need to take care of myself and Melissa through this.

Poem: I Do Not Know Why I Have Hesitated

I Do Not Know Why I Have Hesitated Or not why I did at first. I know it is entropy, now, is that first hesitancy extending itself. It is my habit, now.  I am stopped, to start again requires more effort than if I had acted in the first place. Also, I worry I will be judged for taking so long.  It may go unnoticed if I am merely absent and do nothing, but if it is done now after all this time, that will not go ignored.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety-One

I don't keep a personal diary or journal, largely because my relationship to writing is such that I find it difficult to actually write something for myself, with no intent that it be for an external audience.  That is not to say that I don't have things I write, in a literal sense, just for myself, but when I compose them, I am aware that I am thinking of it as something another person might read and not directed at myself.  At present, I have been writing rather freely and without focus into a document for some time now.  It began as a specific project, but that faded and it has become more a stream-of-consciousness dialogue with myself, and much of it has been rather self-indulgent.  I've spent much of it contemplating the same situations and spinning around as I consider them, trying to change things that I am not in control of, but the last few days I have started to move in new directions, I think.  I feel there is something significant in that, though I cannot explai

Poem: I Need to Make A Choice

I Need to Make A Choice but every option is dreadful, none are good at all, I cannot say one is better. They are all worse, are all for the worse. It is the situation, now, and I know it needs to be dealt with, that it cannot be dismissed. Even to walk away would be too damaging, would be too much loss with no true gain. It would not be escape, just a change in the prison.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Ninety

I am working to get ready for travelling, so I am pausing work on the podcast for a little while.  I suppose that isn't really true, as I am still going to be sending it out to a few people for feedback, and will probably continue to think about the episodes, planning it, even if only in my mind.  It is more that I have a few other things I want to get done before I go out of town.  For example, I want to get a few more poems recorded so that they are ready to go, as I am not sure that I will have the ability to get a decent recording during the trip.  My mother's place tends to be pretty noisy, so I don't know that it would work out.  I was thinking about working on my newsletter, but that only requires that I do some writing, so it won't be a problem to do that no matter where we are, and I prefer the idea of writing the newsletter just before I send it out.  It feels more authentic, somehow.

Poem: I Must Remind Myself It Is Not Just Selfishness

I Must Remind Myself It Is Not Just Selfishness We were told to do things for ourselves, to make certain we took care, set time aside, make plans for our own well-being. With all the rest it would be easy to dismiss that, to never tend our own needs. It would be the natural thing, when so much else is happening, so much that requires attention and care. Maybe it would be enough to feel we are doing the right things, are helping and making it better, but that is never the truth, and it is never that simple or clear.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Nine

I have another meeting about the podcast tomorrow morning.  A lot of it is supposed to be discussing the rest of the series, which I have been thinking about for a while now.  I still have quite a lot to figure out for it, but I do have a general idea of how to proceed and what it is going to be about for the most part.  Overall, the podcast is about book publishing, but from a personal perspective.  As such, I think I want to focus at the start on developing a better perspective on the situation that I am currently in, on defining the problem, as it were, exploring what I am doing and how to improve it.  I have a number of people in mind for potential guests who can provide interesting perspectives from their own experiences.  My biggest concern, right at the moment, is that Melissa and I will be travelling for much of the Summer, starting next week, and I am not certain I will have the ability to record things all that easily.  It may be that is for the best, though, as it might prov

Poem: The Consequences of Your Actions

The Consequences of Your Actions You thought it was a solution but it was no good, it would not help, to do that, you were told, would make everything worse, would destroy any purpose besides the cruelty. I told you it would be no good, that it would not help, but you will do as you wish and if I say anything I will be judged, I will be the one who is called unkind.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Eight

Melissa and I are getting ready to go up to New York and I am feeling rather unsettled about the trip.  I think it is probably going to be the last time that I spend at the apartment where I grew up, and leaving that building behind is not something that I am at all prepared for.  I feel pretty raw about a lot of things connected with the move, and I expect this will be pretty emotional.  On top of all that, I know we will be dealing with my Mom, who I expect is going to be a wreck.  I am trying to get myself ready, but I don't know how much I can do, really.  It is going to be a difficult time, but I have to try and make the best of it that I can.

Poem: I Do Not Think I Have Seen The Moon Tonight

I Do Not Think I Have Seen The Moon Tonight which seems strange, though there are many nights, probably, when I do not look at it.  I can't remember if I saw it last night, either, cannot recall just when it was that I last looked at the moon. It can't have been that long, can it? Not more than a few days, that must be true, even if I cannot recall it in specific. It wasn't an entire week, I am certain it wasn't that long, it could not be that long. I imagine I would know if it were. I should look at the moon more though, I think, should take the time to notice it. I am not certain why that is important but it feels like it should be.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Seven

I am feeling rather worn out tonight, and somewhat drained, emotionally.  Melissa and I tried to discuss some stuff around fixing our house, and it just stresses me out so much to even think about.  I am still very much attached to certain parts of our original vision for this house, and much of that is no longer possible because of just how bad a job was done by our original contractor.  Beyond that, it is going to cost us more than we originally planned because of all this, and we don't have any real faith that we will be able to recover any of the money we already spent, even though practically all of the work is going to need to be redone, and after all of that, the house will not actually be right.   I know that we have to deal with it, but even thinking about it just freezes me up with dread.  I need a way to proceed that doesn't feel like it is just going to make things worse, like it is going to be spending a lot of time and money and effort only to wind up trapped with

Poem: I Want to Be A Kinder Person

I Want to Be A Kinder Person but I am in pain, now, am mad and hurting and not all that sympathetic. I wasn't shown sympathy, wasn't understood, but I try to be better than that, or want to be, at least, want to try to be, but it is difficult, right now it is. I am trapped in my own hurt. I know there is worse, that I am still lucky in many regards, but it does not change  that I am suffering, and that is bigger, most of the time, is the thing I notice. It takes up so much. It takes up all the room  inside of me with my own pain and I do not notice the world any longer.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Six

I am working on the list of possible guests for the first season of my podcast.  At the moment, I have a number of people in mind, though I am not certain about all of them right now.  I know a lot of people who might be interesting to talk with about writing and publishing, but I also recognize that I need to be able to have discussion that will connect with the themes, and which will also be able work with the narrative aspect as well.  For me, the podcast is more about a personal journey, and I feel like that aspect is going to help me refine my list quite a bit.  

Poem: I Had Forgotten about The Pasta Until Just Now

I Had Forgotten about The Pasta Until Just Now It has been waiting in the pot with the sauce. It is not so long, is not too long, I do not think, but it can't stay there. I forgot about it. I knew but I did nothing and then I forgot. I think, maybe, I did not want  to remember. I am not certain what to do with it, what container will accommodate all that is there, let alone how to pack it in  when the fridge is already so full. I think, maybe, I let myself forget. I remember now,  though. I think I am glad. It would be unfortunate if it just stayed out all through the night.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Five

I had another meeting about the podcast today.  For the most part we were just discussing the most recent set of edits of the preview episode, discussing whether we felt it was ready at this point.  Of course, there are always things that can be tuned or adjusted, if you want to keep futzing around, and it really just takes a decision that it is ready.  Our next step is to send it out to a few people that we trust for feedback, and, of course, getting to work on the rest of the episodes.  I think it will be good to put this piece aside for a bit.  I would imagine we might still do a bit more work on it, once we hear back from our first listeners, and I am also expecting that we might hear different things when we return to it.  We've been working on it for a while now, have heard the recordings many times already, and it is easy to stop actually listening to what is there and just thinking it is the same as what is remembered, even when it has changed in some way.  Beyond that, I a

Poem: You Do Not Care

You Do Not Care that it hurt me, that I am still in pain. You still insist it was not wrong. You could tell me you did not understand, call it a mistake, maybe, tell me you care about the damage caused. You just insist that it was not wrong, as if that means I cannot be suffering as a result. You knew I would be hurt and you chose to do it anyway. I suppose I am the fool thinking you might care, that knowing the aftermath might make you rethink it, that you might tell me it was not worth it and you were wrong, but do not care about how I am hurting. It is nothing to do with you because you did nothing wrong.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Four

As mentioned, I've been planning out ideas for the rest of the podcast episodes that are scheduled for production.  At present, that is three episodes, though I think it is best to conceptualize them as a first season, so that I can limit my focus a bit.  The podcast, in general, is about getting a book published, and my goal is to make it, in large part, a personal journey, and that is going to be my journey.  I think the first season needs to focus, largely, on establishing the way that things are, and on establishing what it is that I need to learn in order to get to where I am trying to go.  I do have some ideas for a few people I want to interview, as well.  One person is an author who I have known for a long while, who now has two novels out and I know it took him a long while to get to this point in his career, and I suspect he learned quite a lot during that journey.  I also have some publishing industry contacts who I might be able to enlist, in order to discuss submission

Poem: An Astonishment

An Astonishment It must seem to be one thing and become the other as it continues, but it must also be  that it was the other, first, that it is not a transformation but a trick, an illusion of perspective and limited knowledge. It cannot be one thing all along, or cannot seem to be, I suppose, must be and not be, must change in the mind, but without changing at all, only a shift that is felt, not an alteration in the thing itself. They must come return so what was seen before can be noticed for the first time.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Three

We are getting very close to finishing up our initial round of edits for the preview episode of the podcast.  I should receive a new version very soon, and then I am expected to listen to it and make any final comments, and then we are going to send it out to a few people for some initial feedback.  I am feeling pretty good about this episode at the moment, really, but the fact that we are wrapping up on things with it right now also means we need to start work on the rest, and that requires quite a bit of work.  At the moment, I am focused on just getting a general plan together, with a basic outline for what each episode will be, who I want to approach for interviews, that sort of thing.  I have a generally idea of the material I want to cover, but I still need to spend a bunch of time getting it into something cohesive and actionable.  I feel a bit nervous about it all, but I also recognize that as a natural part of the process for me at this stage.  

Poem: Old Habits

Old Habits I chose to let myself indulge, and I know it was a mistake. I knew, before I did it, I knew.  I was thinking it was not  what I wanted to do, was not good for me, but I did it, anyhow. I regret it, regretted it first, regretted it all along. I will still feel that regret when it happens again.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-Two

I started to take some notes in preparation, perhaps, for a new novel that I have been thinking about.  I mentioned some of the ideas in a post a week or two ago, I think.  Specifically, I was talking about the idea of the story climaxing in a way that created a shared moment, one that exists outside of time and connects all the readers with the characters and with me, as the writer, as if it is a single experience we are all having together.  I have quite a bit more that I was contemplating in my notes, and it is still not all that clear to me what the real story is, though I feel it is on the edge of my mind right now.  I have a sense that it is partly going to deal with a question of what it means for things to be real, and what it means for them to be fictional, and about something being both at once, at least in some sense.  I cannot explain it better yet, as it is still just forming, but I trust that process.  My biggest concern at the moment is knowing that I am also still worki

Poem: I Noticed A Change

I Noticed A Change but I won't admit that I did, will not trust that. It is not certain and I am nervous, am hesitant to trust that it is real. I have thought it was starting many times, the process has been filled with those moments. It is best not to be too hopeful. It can hurt too much to trust and believe. It would be nice to feel optimistic but the world has taught me the value of keeping my expectations more realistic

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty-One

I have been busy catching up on work tonight.  I still have a bunch to do, but I already went through and worked on magazine submission stuff, and recorded me reading a few new poems for my social media.  I still have a few that I need to record, but the alarm downstairs started beeping a little bit ago and I need to go reset it before I can get the rest done.  I may wait to do that in the morning, but I would have to get up quite early.  Really, I could upload the ones that I have already and worry about the rest another time.  I do have other work to get done as well, though, so even if I don't get back to that, I am still going to be a bit busy with the podcast.  I think I am going to try and listen to it tonight, but maybe not take notes the first time through.  I feel like that might be better for me.  If I am concentrating on taking notes, I might focus more on that aspect then on actually listening to it as an experience, and I think that aspect is an important perspective f

Poem: I Am Not Through The Forest

I Am Not Through The Forest I was a fool and followed you, and you  did not lead me all the way. You lost interest and I was left  to find a path. You were gone. Even, then, as you walked off you told me you would help, but you were far away and did not even turn your head towards me.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Eighty

I have been slow with my work this weekend.  I did get started right away, working on the newsletter and all of that, but things have been slow since then.  In large part, it is just that I am distracted.  There is always plenty of other stuff for me to think about, and I am naturally a bit scattered in my thinking.  It really isn't that big a deal at the moment.  If I get through the rest of it tomorrow, I think that will still be good, I just have to focus on doing it.  It really should not be a big deal, and I don't have that much to do, I am just feeling a bit stressed in general, which can't help but have an impact.  

Poem: It Was Never What I Wanted

It Was Never What I Wanted Even if it had gone well it would have been dissatisfying to me, but it went wrong, even still, it went wrong. There was nothing to do, no remedy.  To even attempt to make it right would have been too much, would have been more effort than it was worth. Still, it leaves me  wanting something, leaves me feeling a need that will remain. I should be used to that. If it were possible for me to be used to it, I am certain I would be.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Seventy-Nine

I received the new edit of the podcast today and am planning to give it a listen tomorrow.  I need to set aside time so I can really concentrate in order to leave comments on the piece.  Apparently the editor set it up with some software that facilitates keeping notes by arranging them in line with the audio.  I simply have to sit down and listen to the recording with the software and whenever I want to comment, I just start to type.  The audio will pause and the note that I type will be added as an annotation to that point in the recording.  I kind of wish that it were possible for me to do that using audio notes, if I am honest, as I find it difficult to keep written notes, but I am sure I will figure it out.  It doesn't require that I write anything by hand or that sort of thing, so I think I will manage.

Poem: Cigarette

Cigarette I have wanted to regress, to go back again to my old ways, but I haven't, even though I want to. I understand it is not good, that I am better off now, that the change is one I should think of as positive, but it is difficult, is unpleasant, even, to deny the desire. I have been strong, at least mostly. I do not deny that I have been imperfect, but in general I have done well, have not let myself  go back to those habits. It is not easy, but I know it is what is best. Also, I know you would not be happy. I do not think I want to disappoint you with my weakness.

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Seventy-Eight

I have a fair amount of work to get done in the next few days.  A lot of it is, once more, to do with the podcast.  I am supposed to be getting a new version with another round of edits from my producers, and the next step is for me to listen and go through it to make my own comments on things.  After that, we will also decide about anything that needs to be rerecorded or changed in other ways.  We already have one little thing that we decided is going to need to change, but it is not anything major, and there is still the ending of the podcast to consider.  At present, the ending is kind of on hold, as it makes sense to wait until we have a clear sense of our release schedule and such, so that we can include information on when to expect the first full episode, but I will probably start work on the draft for it at some point.  I say that, but it is quite likely that I will be distracted and not get to it until it is required.  As I mentioned, there are many things to work on besides t

Poem: I Can Hear The Conversation

I Can Hear The Conversation or not the conversation itself but that there is a conversation, that you are talking. I cannot tell what is being said, only that their are voices and laughter, I think it is laughter. It might be crying, at times, some of it is ambiguous, but I assume it is laughing, though it is not certain. I don't want to pry by going down to find out. Do not think I am trying to hear just what words are being said. I don't need to know them. I can stay hear and be alone. You can talk and I can stay here. It is not as if I am even wondering. It is just that the noise travels. That is all it is, it is nothing more.