Would That I Might

My mother is arriving back in Florida tomorrow.  Melissa and I are going to pick her up at the airport.  It will be nice to see her.  I am curious to find out how she has been doing since we left New York and she finally moved to her new apartment.  I do talk with her on the phone, but she is not always very communicative in those conversations and I am hoping that it will be easier in person.  

I should tell you it has not been done I intended that it would be but there have been delays. Do not blame me.  I do not want the blame, especially when it is not my fault, when I was ready  and wanted it completed much sooner than this. It was other people. I did nothing wrong, not myself.  I did not intend for it to be slow.  I acted as fast as I was capable. If only I could do everything just by myself then I would not need to rely on other people.

I have not yet gotten my office back into a state where I can use it.  This is largely because of the way my books were treated by the workers who were here, and I am rather overwhelmed at the prospect of dealing with it.  I am also desperate to have my space back, though.  I need to deal with it, it is just going to be really upsetting, I think.  I had been waiting, at least in part, to hear back from the company as the fellow I spoke with assured me he was going to find out what happened.  I had wanted to leave things as they were until it was a bit more resolved, just in case, but that is probably silly.

I did it,  but I made a mistake It was my intention to be careful, I thought I was, but I was wrong, or confused, or lying to myself because I was eager. I realized right away when it was too late, already. I suppose there is still a solution, of I make the effort, of course, that could be embarrassing, would require admitting the mistakes that I made. No one needs to know. It will just be me who realizes how much was lost.

I have mentioned my interest in origami and other paper arts before.  I have experimented in this arena throughout my life, but in recent years I became more serious in my explorations.  It has still been a bit intermittent, really, but I have been considering how to create certain types of things for a few years now.  Today I got my hands on a digital copy of Robert Lang's book on origami design and I am very excited.  Lang is a scientist who became interested in origami and wound up making it his career.  He was the fellow who worked with NASA to design the mirror for the James Webb Space Telescope so that it could fold into the space shuttle and still deploy properly.  I had the opportunity to meet Lang several years ago and that was a large part of what inspired me to take my interest to this level.  It feels fitting that it might be his work which will enable me to actually create what I have been imagining.

It was a mistake because we trusted you would allow things to go well, and you do not care about what we need or want. It is clear.  You make it clear each time.  I don't want to be here, and I don't want to deal with these things. I do not even know what to do. The solutions are just more of the problem. This is what you created. It was supposed to be a chance, was supposed to be the starting point for building a life for us, but it has turned to regret. We trusted you. I am certain you still believe that we can and should.

I am quite tired tonight.  I am not certain why, other than the general difficulties I have getting decent sleep.  My sleep apnea is bad enough that even using my CPAP machine doesn't keep me asleep all that well.  It is certainly better than it would be without it, but it is far from ideal.  There is a new treatment which involves a surgical implant similar to a pacemaker which helps to keep the muscles that hold open the throat from relaxing but my doctor doesn't think I am a candidate for it right now.

Ready to arrive You suggest enjoying the journey but my feet are sore and it is too hot and I had expected to arrive long before this. I am thirsty and tired and I do not want to stop again at another random place. I want to arrive at the destination. I do not want to travel more, do not want to settle  for whatever other locale we happen to have reached. It may be that cannot happen. I wish that what is required could alter to match that reality.

I have had a very long and rather frustrating day, including some really infuriating revelations.  I was finally able to go up to my office and I found that my poetry books were simply dumped into haphazard piles so that the shelves could be moved.  I was told explicitly that they would be fine and I did not need to move them, that the shelves would be left in place and covered with plastic to protect everything.  It is all a disaster and I am really upset about it.  My poetry books have a huge amount of value to me on so many levels, especially because many of the books are personally inscribed, often by writers with whom I have had some type of acquaintancesbip.  I haven't had the strength to start going through everything, but I can see from just a cursory overview that the books are going to be a mess, with at least some damaged.  It is just too much to even contemplate dealing with tt right now.

I thought it would be a restoration but it is destruction I am finding, a dissaray, a betrayal. I know what was said and what was to be done. That is what it needs to be, what you must cause to be the way of things. It is what was required, is the necessary way. The damage is too much for me. I do not expect you to understand what is important to me, to know the ways of my heart and mind, but you told me care would be taken. I will not release you from the obligation.

I am shocked to find that I have finished my work so early tonight, especially considering that Melissa and I were out tonight.  Normally it takes me a bit more time to get myself to work when we get home, but tonight it went unusually smoothly.  I think that a part of it is that I have a lot on my mind tonight, and writing can help me to process things at times.  Of course, on another night the same thoughts would have been a distraction and direct obstacle to writing, so there must be quite a bit more to it.

I wanted to be kind about it but it was not easy. My preferences go in the opposite direction, but I did not complain. I knew I needed to show support, that it would be upsetting if I rejected the offer. I am still upset by it all, really, by the absences, by the lacks. It all lines up against me, but I said nothing. I know it was for the best, but I still feel diminisbed. I wish that were not the truth.

Tonight is the start of Yom Kippur.  It has been a  difficult holiday for me since my father died, a x this year, it also happens, today is the anniversary of the day our cat, Ulysses died as well, so it has been difficult.  I am glad that Melissa and I are going t visit my cousin and her family tomorrow evening.  They are most always a positive influence on things, and spending time with them is often uplifting.

Now you say it is all different but it is too late for that, is after the plans  cannot be altered, after each choice was made. I am prepared, am ready, more, I am only prepared for this. It is not possible to shift that. It does not matter that things have changed and possibilities are gone, that you were wrong, perhaps. None of that is a help. I am suffering, have been waiting for things to begin.  I am ready. It is the thing I need.  It matters: I chose to make it what matters, to commit myself to it. I cannot undo that. It is a truth of mine, now. There is not another way. I do not know if you understand  what it means, what you are telling me. I do not think you realize the danger of it or the ways you are responsible.

I had a bit of a frustrating day.  Melissa and I went out to run a bunch of errands, but much of effort was met with frustration.  I need to be more resilient when these things happen.  At least I am recognizing the behavior, even if not quite in the moment.   I know that can choose to let things go, have been able to do it at least a few times.  It is mostly a matter of becoming more aware of it when it is happening. 

It is another year added to the count, and it seems strange, even now.  He was a cat.  I do not know why I am surprised to still hurt so much. He was a cat, but it is still me who feels the absence.

I did a word count on the second novel I am writing and found that it is a bit over 5000 words at the moment.  That is approximately a fifth of the way towards an averageish book length.  I feel a bit excited knowing the progress I am making, even if it has been a bit slow.  I feel like I have been building steam with this piece, though, and I have a good sense of where it is going, not just in terms of the ending itself, but also in certain ways I want to play around in the book as well.  I want, for example, to present some chapters that are sort of head-fakes, where it seems as if something exciting might be beginning to happen, but then it is all revealed to be nothing at all.  In part, this is because the plot needs to be pretty uneventful until the end, and because I think it will help reveal more about the character at the center of the book.  It has taken me a bit of time to get this far, I know, but I expect it will speed up as I keep going and I get more caught up in the stor

That is your way and it is good, I know, I can recognize that, but it is not my way. I do not have patience or the attention for it. I have other qualities which are more pronounced. I rely on what I do well. The ends are the same, I hope. I do not know how to be  the same as you, to do things by the rules I know you follow. It is not that this is easier or has less rigor. It is different. I do not know  if you can understand that. It might be best  to hide them and pretend the differences do not exist.

I am finding myself trying to write more and more about various issues that trouble me, but I often find myself a bit hesitant.  I think it is largely just a lack of confidence, or something along those lines.  It is funny how hard it can be to remember that, just because I write a thing, it does not mean anyone else ever has to read it.  At least I am not letting it stop me from exploring these ideas on the page.  

I had thought I was lost but it was easy to return to the place I started from. It surprises me. I found my way with no difficulty, which is not what happens, is not an experience  I have had all that often. This time, I was lucky. I am appreciating it as one should appreciate rare things.

I am glad to be finishing up my work early tonight.  Last night, I did not sleep all that well, largely because the bedroom was very hot,.but today the air conditioning was fixed, so it should be better.  I don't think I have to be up all that early tomorrow, either, so I am hoping that I might get a but more of a rest tonight.  Of course, sleep is always a bit strained for me, what with my sleep apnea.  Even using my machine, I still find it hard to get refresbed.

I had checked already and was certain I did not find anything waiting except the debris, the remainders of what was already spent up. I do not know how it is that today, it was waiting. Today, when it was not so needed, when there was already a replenishment. Perhaps it is for the best, anyhow. What has come now will be made to last just a bit longer.

Melissa and I started to talk more directly about how we are going to deal with the house.  As I have mentioned, our home is in a disarray due to a botched remodel.  Our contractor wasn't pulling permits and had not done the work to code.  It fell apart and we have been living in the aftermath of it for several years at this point, too overwhelmed to do much of anything.  Today was one of the first times when we discussed what we want to do about it in a direct way and I hope that we might be starting to get unstuck.

You asked my thoughts and I tried to answer but am still not certain of what I have said. I want things to be made right, want to define it as what is required. I do not want the things that were planned to be lost.  I know that is over and gone. I do not know what to say to that. I do not know the point of doing anything  if it will not help, if it will only be a calcification of what is already wrong. The choice was made long ago, there was a vision. That still matters to me. I know it is impossible but what good is anything else when  it will benothing  except a symbol of what it is not?

I am hoping that I will be able to get back into my office soon.  We had someone come by today to work on it, but I still need to wait for the moment.  I wish I had a better idea of just how long it is likely to take.  I am doing fine writing on my phone at the moment, though I do miss my computer.  More than anything it is that I do not have my own space in the house at the moment.  

What worked before did not help this time. It might be I did it wrong but I do not believe that. I think it is the same problem but with different parameters. I will need other solutions. It will take time for that. Things will have to remain  in disrepair just a bit longer.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.  I have work for the podcast in the early afternoon, and then someone is coming to do some work at the house as well.  I thought that we had some other work going on as well, but I gather there is a delay.  I suppose that is fine, though I am a bit annoyed that they waited until the last moment to let me know.  

I don't remember enough only the outlines of memories and no detail.  It is waiting, I think.  Something will be there, with a bit of help something will come. I do not know why  I am at a loss. It surprises me, but we never recall just how much of life we have already forgotten

Melissa and I went to my cousin's house for dinner tonight to celebrate Rosh Hashanah.  We often go to visit with her and her family for Jewish holidays, though this was the first time we have been there since their eldest daughter went off to college.  We actually thought it was last night originally and started to drive up(they live a little over an hour from us), but the traffic was bad and we called to warn them we might be late.  At least we didn't get all the way there, I suppose.  In any event, we had a nice time tonight.  I think we are going to see them again forthw  Yom Kippur break fast.

We have spoken of it before Just this, the same thing, the same situation.  You know, have been told, have heard me and admitted understanding, spoke of changing things, of preventing this in specific. It would have been simple, you cannot pretend it was not possible, after all, you made certain I knew you had been listening it was too late  for your presence  on the phone to not be  an upsetting surprise.

I am feeling very fatigued lately.  It is not always easy for me to keep up with my writing, but I am committed to it.  At the moment, I am pushing myself to do the work, and I am getting it done, but it is draining.  I know that it will shift again at some point, that is inevitable, but I also recognize there are deeper causes which I need to address, and I would do that if I had a good idea of how.

All that way up  and then we find it is not tomorrow yet and just return back, with a detour or two, but, in all it was wasted time. I am fine.  I am calm. Once it would have been bad, I think.  I didn't notice that part. I am only thinking it now. That is strange. One day, maybe, I will even forget to notice what hasn't happened.

I wish that I had my computer tonight.  It is not that much more difficult to write on my phone but it is different, and that difference impacts what I write.  It may be that I am just missing having my own space more than anything.  

There is no one version but there are many ways it has been that cannot all be at once, or should not, at least, coexist. It is all shifting, depends on the moment, the placement, on what is still and what is in motion. It is not a way of knowing, but what good would that be on this type of night? It may be no good anyhow, but that is a different sort of problem.

I have been working on two novels, writing a bit of each daily.  I had begun work on one of them when I had the idea for the other and I knew it was not going to wait so I went for it.  In truth, I have a lot of doubt about the first novel.  It has been difficult for me to get it going and I know it is a mess right now.  I think that working on it concurrent with the other novel has helped, to be honest, taking some pressure off if nothing else.  The other book seems to be progressing and I even have a decent sense of the whole of it at this point.  

It does not get done because I am scared, and I get more afraid when the time passes: it will be worse, will be harder or I will be punished. I wait and let it get bad. That is what happens. It does not help. It is the opposite. It is making things worse is allowing it to continue. I get scared and do nothing. It is easier to ignore it all and pretend it does not exist, and when I think of it I am csrtain: alresdy I have waited too long.

I am rather tired.  I had to be out for an appointment at seven this morning and had a pretty busy day after that, as well.  To be honest, I am not used to that type of day.  I often wake up early, but rarely because I have any obligation.  Mostly it is just so that I can spend a bit of time with myself in the morning.  Perhaps my mental fog today was because I missed that alone time and not just the early hour of my appointment.

You want solid and certain and I cannot be persuaded to provide it, am certain it is not proper or right or good or an acceptable way for me. I have concerns.  It may be  you think it is fine. I do not want to explain the nature of my morality. I wonder if that itself would be an imposition, would create a wound. I haven't the right  to take such risks even if you are begging me.

I am without my office for a bit right now as we are getting some work done in that part of the house.  I am expecting it will be a week or so, but I don't know for certain.  I should probably have tried to get my computer set up downstairs but it was just too much work, especially since we don't really have the space for it downstairs at the moment.  At least I am used to working on my phone at this point.

I do not know about that option There are other events in motion, distractions, complications, limiting factors to consider. I would like to say 'yes,' or want to have the ability to say it without concern of conflict. I think saying 'no' will bring the conflict I want to avoid. It is already a problem, anyhow, was already no good for it to be this.  Maybe I am wanting the trouble. That does not mean I made it up or can avoid it.  Don't think I did this on purpose. I tried to avoid explaining my problems: I don't think you are sympathetic enough to understand if I tried.

I have been thinking a good deal about the strange concept that limiting the meaning of a symbol is a form of violence.  This may seem a very strange idea, but it is not all that hard to understand if one considers it for a moment. A symbol's point is to have a floating meaning, in a sense.  If one wished to provide a singular meaning, why not just provide that instead?  When one provides a symbol, one is creating a certain freedom, a space of possibilities.  To define that symbol, then, is to limit that space, to cut it down and remove possibilities, and, thus, to limit freedom.  That is inherently an act of force in a sense, is an imposition of will, that is to say it is violence.  It is also the essence of communication, of course.  In some way, I cannot deny the idea.  I have to even recognize that by sharing this particular set of thoughts I am imposing an awareness of violence on you as the reader, am doing, potentially, harm to you by this.  I know this is something I must w

They will come tomorrow and I must prepare for that It could have been done already but I was distracted and lazy, too.  I did not care, did not want to do it. I still do not want to but I know there is a need, and the time is gone so I cannot wait. I could let it slide and leave it  to be done by another. I could do that. I know that is possible and it would be fine, I think.  I would not be judged, I don't think, or if I was it would not be a judgement that mattered at all. Though that is not true because I would know.

I think that I have come to understand the shape for one of the novels I am writing.  I mean, I have a sense of how the plot is going to work, and where the book is going to end.  Really, calling it a plot is not all that reasonable.  I don't think there is going to be a lot of events building up towards the end, but there is a twist that changes things.  I am not entirely certain about every detail at this point, as there are two possibilities, but they are both built around the same general idea, so I don't really need to decide right away.  I was second-guessing the idea for a bit, if I am honest, but I think that was mostly because I recognize that it isn't entirely realistic, if one examines the concept a bit too much, but I don't think that really matters.  I am not trying to write a realistic piece of fiction.  The premise is largely ridiculous, I think, so why be concerned about the logistics of the ending?  What matters is making it work for a reader.  If the r

I do not know if the way I did it was correct or if I made some mistake and I cannot find a way to check or make certain, and if I knew it was wrong there isn't anything for me to do to correct the error.  I know that is true. I just have to trust  that things are right, wait and hope.  I may never know if there was an error.   I may just be waiting without knowing. Whether I did it right or not, the outcome could be identical. It may bother me more that I will never know what is true.

It has been a very difficult day.  Melissa received word that her father (who she has been estranged from since well before we met) passed away.  She received a text message from a half-brother who I don't think she ever met asking her to get in touch and immediately told me she thought it was probably bad news.  Until recently we had not even been certain he was still alive, to be honest, but a year or so ago we had lunch with another of Melissa's relatives who was visiting the area, and he mentioned that George, Melissa's father, had a ranch or something in the country.  I know that Melissa had chosen not to have a relationship with him, that he had tried to reach out to apologize for things at some point, but she was not receptive to it.  He was, I gather, a horrible and abusive man, both to her and to her mother.  At one time when we were visiting her at the nursing home, Melissa's mother became extremely agitated and afraid, telling us that George was coming to the

What should I have said? I do not know and it would not have helped. It would have been a problem, because there is no other answer and I would have refused it, would have demanded better, demanded a way to have what is no longer possible because it was the point, was what was needed. The thing that is broken is what mattered and it is broken, destroyed, cannot be repaired. I recognize that is true, but you think what you offer is a real solution. That only means you do not understand, you do not realize what matters. I should explain it but I am so certain you will not be receptive. Your idea of what is important opposes the aspects that matter most to me.

I am feeling very overwhelmed tonight and rather uneasy.  There is a lot going on in my personal life at the moment and I am having difficulty dealing with it.  I've got to make a decision about certain things, and it is not easy.  I am conflicted and uncertain what would be best for me.  I wish that I felt like taking more time would help, but I don't think it will.

It Will Be A Lie There was a reality then but it will be otherwise when we return because we have returned to go back, to do again the thing that was, and it only was because it came to be in that time and place, because it was real and not a plan. There it was as it needed to be. That is not possible, cannot come again. It will be impossible, will be a lie instead. I do not like it. This is the only way but it is no good. What must be done is impossible now.

I began reading Lucy Ellmann's novel Ducks, Newburyport and I am finding myself having a lot of difficulty with it.  The book is written using a form of stream of conscious, with a lot of repetition and minimal use of traditional punctuation.  I very much admire the craft and the way admire the form.  It is not an easy way to tell a story, and I am very intrigued by it, and certainly find the book compelling, but I am, as I said at the start, having a great deal of trouble with reading it right now.  This is largely a result of my neurodiversity, or that is what I believe, as the major problem I am having is that I have been having a great deal of trouble navigating the text and just keep getting lost.  To be specific, the portion of the book I am reading is not broken into sentences but is split up with commas, and most of the segments in the sentence begin "the fact that."  Indeed, I think almost everything begins that way, except for small lists and other, often non-se

I do not want to fall backwards into those old ways but I am weak, vulnerable, too, at least right now.  You understand, don't you, with all that is happening, you must, I hope.  It is not what I want, or, I do not want to want it?  Maybe that is more accurate, though I suspect it will explain nothing.  I cannot explain. I can speak of the conflicts, the wanting for things to be otherwise, the knowledge that each way forward is too wrong to be the right option, but it is all there is. It makes it hard to continue, to hold on, though I know it won't help at all, will be a wound, if I am honest. Still, the desires remain, the weakness, the compulsion to return to what is known even now, even knowing it will only harm me.

I don't want to get into the specifics, but I had a bit of a difficult day today.  There were a number of different aspects to it, some to do with family, some connected with my writing and related efforts.  I feel like a simple mistake meant that I wasted a bunch of time today, and not just my own, unfortunately, and it is very frustrating, especially since this would have been a major step in completing one of my ongoing projects for the moment, which would have been very helpful.  I have been feeling so overwhelmed with things and I think it might have helped to know that there was one less thing to deal with.  I know that it can't be helped at this point and that it will take doing the work over again, and I am upset about that.  I wish that I felt more capable of expressing those feelings, but I find, so often, that my negative emotions are met with hostility and rejection even when they are valid.  I found it difficult to even write about this here, even these very vague

It is not so simple as you think even if it is  the only option, this solution is not easy or guaranteed. It took effort and preparation, I am not certain what will come of repetition. I do not trust that. It is all we can do, I know that is true, but it is still no good. I understand  it is the only way. I wish you understood the nature of my difficulty. If my perspective were clear you would recognize the need for a different solution despite the impossibility of any alternative.

It has gotten late and I should probably be in bed already.  I have a number of things to do tomorrow, and I want to get going on the early side, I think.  For one thing, I have an interview to record for my podcast and I think I want to try and spend a bit of time on some of my preparations.  I know what I am planning for the interview, but it would be good to go through it again, I think.  It has been a bit since I've done an interview,  but I trust that it will go well.  In any event, I had planned to try and make tonight a quiet evening, if not an early one, but my friend, Steve, who I have not seen in a long while called me and wound up coming over to hang out for a bit.  He's been out of town but is back for just a little bit, so it may be a bit before we catch up again.  I am glad that he came by, even if it meant my being up a bit late.

I do not have any answer to that question or to the questions you are really asking. I do not know what would be best for me to say, how to respond that will offer assurance or point a way forward. I do not have the answer. I know what matters and what I wish. I do not know how to get there or what is to be. I am here, am beside you, whatever this is, the life we are sharing is the one I still desire.

I am waiting for some feedback on my novel right now, and I have to admit that I am a bit nervous.  Though I have had enough positive response to it and support that I should be confident about it, I still have my concerns about it.  I'm aware that the book itself is not for everyone, that it is written in a style that is somewhat unusual and can be difficult or even off-putting.  That being true does not reflect the ultimate quality or potential of the book, as I can think of many pieces of writing I could say the same things about which have been very successful.  Of course, the existence of such works is not evidence in favor of my own work.  At the moment, though, I have one person who is reading it and I am just hoping that it connects for them.

She says she cares but it is not the truth, or not the caring it seems, is nothing for anyone else, is just a fear of what might come, of turning tables and dispositions, the nature of things being revealed. She does not wish to help or make it different or protect anyone besides herself. She only knows there is a warning in what is done to others. That is all. She does not care. It is not an intercession or act of kindness. She is preparing, is deciding what must be done for her own well-being. None of the rest matters. We can all suffer as long as it is only us.

The poetry I write today is very different from the poetry that I wrote even just a few years ago.  This is, of course, inevitable, of course, especially when I am writing so much.  It is normal to learn and grow, and the work is bound to shift as that occurs.  It is necessary and natural.  At the same time, it is also quite understandable, I think, to lack confidence around that new work when it appears.  I recognize what was good in some of my older poetry, in terms of how it was structured and the ways it functioned, but the new work that I am doing is, as I said, very different, and I don't always have such a clear sense of it.   This is one reason why I think it is important for me to just maintain my routine and focus on writing as a process, as it keeps me from getting caught up in self-doubt.  Each day, I just focus on the act of writing itself, not on the output.  That is enough to help me keep my commitment to the work.

It was me who made these troubles Unreasonable and bitter, wanting so, wanting for the sake of wanting, rejecting each thing that was possible, pushing against it all. I don't know why I do this, but it must change, I understand and want  things to change. There should be a way. I knew it was happening, but it still unfolded as I feared it was about to.  I should have chosen better. I do not know what is wrong that I could not stop myself from ruining things again. It is not alright. There is something wrong and I must learn to name it.

 I have been reading Percival Everett's novel, The Trees , and I just find it to be such an amazing book.  I've read two other books of his and have been blown away by each one, if I am honest.  There is something that I find very admirable in his willingness to go in such absurd directions.  For example, the character names in The Trees are all crazy and over the top, and often are literally just jokes.  As a writer, I often sit and try to come up with character names that feel authentic or grounded, and Everett's willingness to just give a character an absurd or conspicuous name is very empowering.  There is so much more I could say about the book, in terms of the ideas and themes of course, and about how it is written, the clever way that Everett pieces the story together without needing to hold the reader's hands throughout.  The book is so strange and beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.  I am sure I will write something more coherent after I finish it, b

Will there be forgiveness?  I do not know if it will be earned, or if it will remain this way. There is harm and damage and pain. It is not a simple matter to brush aside and live with, but that is all that can be done. If only it did not keep worsening, new revelations and twists that only turn the knife and deepen the cut already made.  Will it heal? Can there be a way for redemption?  I wish I could let my heart open but there is such danger. I worry that you think I want this, that this umbrage is a choice but after what has happened I realize I need to protect myself. There is such a danger  in letting go of this.