<= 2006.02.08

2006.03.03 =>

Commentary on Midnight

It never ceases to feel indulgent, but there is at least some relief in coming to understand that you are not actually seeking sympathy or commiseration; all you want is admiration for your skill in taking snapshots of your heart. Of course it doesn’t work if the emotions aren’t genuine, but that doesn’t mean the emotions are the point. The point is to redeem your life. Even if it has to be done piecemeal.

 

Midnight

All dried out, no sweetness in the world
All dried out, no sweetness in the world

But what about the published books of all the boys and girls?
With a published book I might have found some sweetness in the world.

In class: “You cannot partially buy into a prestige network.”

“But once you buy into it, can’t you undermine it from within?”

And I thought: what does that mean, undermine? And why would you do that? You’ll just lose your investment.

I did buy in. Surely there’s no activity more laughable than writing for the unborn, but I went ahead and bought in to the extent, thus far, of two years’ salary and an entire structure of values when in three generations there might not be a world, not one that can afford the luxury of remembering us. The trees scrape the side of the house and the bed spins underneath me, Nina Simone’s recording of “Sinnerman” in my head, I don’t know why, it’s not exactly pleasant—

But the rock cried out I can’t hide you
The rock cried out I can’t hide you
The rock cried out I ain’t gonna hide you
All on that day

I said rock what’s the matter with you rock?
Don’t you see I need you rock?
Lord Lord Lord
All on that day

So I run to the river it was bleeding
I run to the sea it was bleeding
I run to the sea it was bleeding
All on that day

So I run to the river it was boiling
I run to the sea it was boiling
I run to the sea it was boiling
All on that day

And when she cries “Power!” and the hidden men shout “POWER!”—I know it’s some kind of spiritual, but whatever that is goes deeper and harder than the New Testament, and it gives me chills. If the rain would stop, if the mind would stop.

might i read approaching zero? it is too smart for the likes of me, but i would like to try.

O modest writer, who are you?

 

<= 2006.02.08

2006.03.03 =>

up (2006.02)

The Warm South
The Roof Rat Review