Cacoethes Scribendi

26 July 2006

i am he, and he is me;

Filed under: Meaningful nonsense — Jane @ 3:11 am

and the beauty lies in such language not obscuring, but instead revealing, Some (oh, The forever Patient) truth.

look, i’ll even borrow his songpretty voice.

to be like him, don’t be like him. and if you want to be like him, well, there’s your first problem.

they try to tell me that language and decade and society make the man the man he is. but if that’s so, how can i understand, perfectly sweetly purely like it’s mine own, what he says and breathes onto the page? there’s essential personness that transcends all that shit. sure, i can’t know that i know. but i know nonetheless.

swing back & forth between exhaustion, inspiration. feel as though i could write all night and furthermore that i should, but then there’s the should of work & moneytime, which i’d give all my money to erase whole and entirely from the face of this rolling sad earth – yet it come back time & again & poke me in the eye, the eyes, les yeux, says hi pay attention to me or else like a two foot tall dictator —

fuck off, you, i say to him, and he laughs and gives me that look as he walks away that says he’s creeped his way into my soul & ill never be rid of him til death do us part.

fuck the little man; i’ll take a pen and open me if i have to from the gills on up & pull him out & leave him giggling on the side of some silent highway in nebraska.

and slowly we fill in those answers. write for those who can hear you. that includes you (me). because, as he the good man says on page 74:

“and i know there’s no need to tell a story and yet i know there’s no need for silence….why else should we live but to discuss (at least) the horror and the terror of all this life —- ”

and, i must add, the beauty, though it shine at times very dim

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