"gotta work everyday"

(video: Oprah's interview of Cormac McCarthy pt. 1)

This will be my last full summer in Boise. A fact slowly dawning when I drag myself up creaking from the floor earlier than my body wants to rise. And retrospects to be saved for the proper time, but interaction with fam from past lives has me edgy and forlorn for back east. The work is being put in, the name will get submitted to the proper places, something will certainly happen. And its not as though there is nothing for me here, ingratiated more every drunken night I leave the laboratory, but it will certainly be time to move on as it was time to then.

I went through my room today and threw things out. Ill-fitting clothes, widgets for this purpose and that, a bag of sentimentality that will always burn in my brain. I moved my bed out into the other room and cleared pacing room on the floor. Where that sliver of sunlight comes in now at around 7am, two feet below that space I don't seem to have the heart to occupy anymore. I think we kill brain cells to forget, everything I touch and see in this room saturated with memories some painful enough they serve as their own scar. French words in permanent marker on my desk to remind me of how badly I misstepped. Four vinyl journals for the past 6 years housing all manner of diegetic nonsense, words I don't remember thinking and that I couldn't write again. A knee-high stack of criticism and lonely hours spent. Several hundred books that raised me and put hair on my chest. All these things I keep of course, the rest means nothing. Some synthesis of Bertrand Russell and GG Allin.


Ben Franklin had this thing. He chose to socialize with those he thought would help the revolution. And maybe that explains my being reclusive. I have the greatest peace when I'm with those that are somehow subtly making me a better writer. Challenging notions, invoking jealousy with their own work, showing me some further way to be happy with rien. On Friday I drank too much with someone I hope will trade favors with me in this regard. I gave him some guidance in the gym, and I'm hoping when I'm his student this fall he'll accept nothing but my best. And then tell me why its still shit. Poetry, not fiction, but I've got a grand arrogant thing I want to write that fits right in that niche.