[My journal so far today.]
*
Morning pressure;
The weight tap-taps,
Knocks and says:
“Why, well, you’re back.
Back and older,
More stupider, less
Innocent, simple:
You look a mess!”
A mess I make
My bed and take
A shower, drink
A cup and think
A million thoughts
Insane, and not
Remembered but
Like flies shooed off
And I, a mess,
Fall back to work,
Fall back to thoughts
Insane and not
Pursued but dropped; —
The feeling though
Does not let go
And I, alone,
Fall back home
A little older,
Less certain, no
Thoughts but evening
Pressure, wonder
Dumb and tired,
Blows me under
Cover, books and
Completely…
*
“You’re the next Jim Carrey.” –Mom, this morning.
*
10:07 am. Crazy, filled with bad and mean and cowardly thoughts.
Very difficult morning. Miserable at times.
Looking out of the window of my room, the thought:
“It’s like I’m on an island, stranded…”
*
Easy now, or easier, that I’m -here-, in my journal.
My attention’s focused.
But when I turn away, chaos.
Hm.
*
“Dès qu’on a la foi,
l’expérience répond. [Alain]
*
[As soon as there’s faith,
experience responds.]
*
By understanding -first-
the simpler.
I have my traps.
And hope. –.
Gray Haskins 