Friday, July 08, 2005


Has it really been a month since I last blogged? I suppose so. Over a month. I stopped checking off the days on my calendar, well, when I last had a calendar to check the days off. Maybe I need to buy a planner or something so that I will recognize the days again.

I haven't wanted to write. There is too much that is too much right now that writing seems inadequate. And then I read a story from Kapka or a poem by K and I realize I'm doing more injury to myself than necessary. But what to write about? There are things on my list: an article for Clark Memorandum (very sterile and simple, but still); a personal essay for Gideon about London (the one I wrote in London was crap and Gideon called me on it); journal entries, poetry, letters. I need to write (platonic) love letters to the world at large and everyone individually.

I keep thinking of poem 5 from Tennyson's "In Memoriam." I probably just botched the title, but it's in the Norton anthologies. Go look it up. I want to use it as an excuse--that writing is always inadequate. But this time I know it's not true. This time writing is the only answer.

I love you (you is plural).


KapkaVictim said...

I love you (plural) also. I want to write platonic love letters.

I agree that an arrow pointing to Tennyson's peice is often the best self-expression possible. "Memoriam" is the most underrated work in the modern semi-canon.

I shudder, though, to put my stories in the same catagory as K's poems. I did write my first poetry of the summer. It's my
Eden poem.

I want to read your love letters, I want to read your redo essay. Writing, good writing, will always be inferior to loving, but only as a subset of loving, the way that making breakfast on Sunday is inferior to mothering or squeezing tubes is inferior to painting.

Jeremy said...

watcha doing these days, yo?


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