how wonderful to be able to write:
it’s something you can’t do, like
playing the piano, without thinking:
it’s not important thinking, but the
strip has to wind, the right keys
have to be hit, you have to look to
see if you’re spelling the words
right: maybe it’s not the thinking
but the concentration, which means
the attention is directed outside
and focused away from the self, away
from obsessive self-monitorings:
these self-monitorings create problems
where there are none: they fill
inanition with misery, when if you
can look about and do things,
inanition goes away and so does the
misery: but I, I have a long history
of misery: I’ve suffered enough, I
should know how: it has come off and
on often enough, I should expect it:
but sometimes it has gone away for
years and then the return is difficult:
I have to (you, one has to) learn all
over again how to cope: one thing
one learns, I suppose, is that there
is little poetic value in writing
about misery: so many other things
to most people are more interesting:
almost anything is: a few of those
little rug moths fly up this time of
year and light on the walls: I get
some of them with a fly swatter, but
I don’t know that that helps cure the
moth problem: when do they mate:
when do they lay eggs: how do they
know what to do: they probably do
it without thinking: the way I
write: I write to write: it’s
not that I think that’s the way to
write: it’s that this way of writing
occupies me: it’s a way of existing
that is more comfortable than not
writing: most writers, of course,
take pains, as I’m sure they should,
to write and to write well: I don’t
mean to say this is good in spite of
my nonchalance, and I don’t mean to
demean the reader (what?) by asking
him to spend his time on time merely
spent: since I started this, 15
fairly pleasant minutes have passed:
my gratitude for that is, like,
boundless: I am encouraged to think
that maybe I can get through the
whole weekend by writing when I need
to: when I can’t find anything
(better?) to do: believe me, I wd
not do this if I were better connected,
if I were better engaged: walking
is good, but the knee joint in my
deveined leg hurts (the whole leg
swells in the heat): swimming is
nice, but I gave up my membership
when I got sick: reading is sometimes
possible: when I can read nothing
else, sometimes I can read what I
have written (that’s usually innocent
and nonviolent enough): I’ve said
before that I write so I’ll have
something to read, and that does
double the pleasure and the time the
pleasure takes: I am basically in
perfect health: but right now I
have things in the future to do that
seem like a threat: these things
are not threats but exciting
opportunities: I have just twisted
them around to where I’m afraid I
can’t do them, and that is threatening:
as a matter of record, usually when
I do such things (such as poetry
readings or dinners with presidents
(of colleges or universities) I do
them well enough to make people
kind: what could be less threatening
than kindness: it is much less
threatening, say, than love, which
is so invasive and deeply involving: