it's 9:54 am, on September 26, 2001 - raining in baltimore.
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It's wednesday, and surprise surprise, another entry.
I have this idea, where I'm going to write a book of things that I've composed while commuting; then I'm going to take pictures of train tracks and the city of Vancouver and the mystery water that I pass every morning, and then I'm going to get it published and people will be amazed at my view of the west coast, all seen from the insides of moving vehicles.
We're all moving, all the time. See us moving.
Anyway, that's one of many things I'm working on. I've also finished reading Rumi's collection; moved on to 'the end of the affair'. After that, either 'on the road' (which I bought just yesterday, despite my love affair with the beats) or a moving back to Mesapotamian myths, which I started but never finished.
I went to Chapters last night; I didn't get to buy John Knowles. I didn't get to buy the journal I wanted to.
'The end of the affair' is sitting beside me. I remember the first time I saw the movie, I was talking to Al on AIM and quoting random pieces at her while she, did her thing. 'you think love ends because you don't see me' is probably one of the most profound things I've heard in a while.
Of course in the right mood, 'can you see me rollin' is a profound thing; also, 'come and take a ride with a space cowboy' so you can't be too careful.
~*~
Al also has started a new campaign -- there's a war going on, intellectually, and it's called, 'write, baby', or something -- and it says, 'write comic heros in some other way. Like, take bobby and make him a boyband member. Take Remy and put him in prison.' Take the x-men and put them in the FBI -- not a crossover, as she says, but just a, a, reinvention of their roles in life. It's still Bobby, but now he's singing and dancing and famous instead of fighting villains and famous. Y'know? He's reading record contracts. He's got a clothing line.
Remy's sucking up heroin and being addicted to self-destruction. --some things don't change. It's because we don't want them to.
It's quarter to ten. I should have transcribed some of the stuff I've got sitting in my notebook to transcribe, but I didn't, so it'll have to wait. I have a train song in my head. Also: rufus wainwright crooning, 'I don't want nobody to love me, just give me sex whenever I want'.
Also: I want to travel. I want to see Athens georgia. I want to see. I want to go somewhere that the rain's not dripping off the trees and getting down the back of my trenchcoat. --I want to visit Baltimore, and squeal over magazines with Cathy.
'The end of the affair' says writing is accomplished in the pedestrian; your head things about what your words will be while you're drinking tea, or walking the dog, or hanging out with friends, and when you sit down to write, you let all that subconscious stew bubble up. So, say you're thinking about something that's deeper than writing -- say, someone by the name of Chris and heartache -- you can't write. It won't come out. Something has taken the place of writing in your subconscious, and that's him.
That's why I can't write OZ-fic. That's how I'm too invested.
Anyway. Y'all have a good rainy morning. God I'm not digging the weather here. You freaks keep your rain. I'm moving to Italy.
~
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moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
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bruise - June 29, 2015
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