I just feel like talking, even if few feel like listening. And the funny thing is I don't have anything in particular to say. Just hi.
I read a screenplay my friend wrote, the one that K will be collaborating with when we go down to California for a week in January to live by the beach and work on art projects. Heaven. It was beautiful. I am very jealous of the work. I sat down on my hard wood floor for a full hour last night staring at something I had been working on, staring at it, waiting for it to move. And the strange thing is I feel so inspired, and yet not very productive. It's a purgatory of desire with no action. Have I Been Doing Enough. Will I Ever Be Good. Lalalalalalallalala I can't hear you.
I'm working on the book again. It's good to go away from something for a while, they say. Well, what they don't say, and I instinctually fear whenever I leave something, is that by leaving it it becomes ordinary plain lost in whatever it was trying to become but not actually becoming it. But luckily when I came back to the book, I still feel like I know it, that it is speaking my language and has more to say to me.
My dreams last night were very weird, can't talk about them here but weird they were, wery veird.
Let's work together and build something new. I love thinking those words, starting afresh, using past mistakes and new ideas to build something new, bigger, better, nicer, happier than what you've built before.
Let me be honest for a moment. I would really like to name names. Let's see. If I could say anything right now, to anyone, without thinking about tact or consequences or anything else, what would it be... I'll just keep typing until it comes to me, all stream of conscious like, zebra shoelace, striped pokka-dot lollipop, bear cage zoo, bubbles bouncing off one another, pop and gone, the weasel. It seems to be animals on my mind at the moment. When I was younger I was one of those kids who was known to love animals. Animals, drawing, these were my interests, catching butterflies and killing them, these were my interests, nets, cages, boxes, and tanks, my tools, raccoons in the trashcan were a christmas morning, fishing poles in the river, wading for crawdads, getting stuck in the mud, rolling on your side down the hill. Okay, out of daydream now.
Honestly, if I were to be honest, and say something totally honest, honestly, as it were. I would say, what would I say. I've been sitting here 10 minutes. Sometimes, an honest thing comes to the surface, and it reveals that I think much too highly of myself, and not very highly of you. But I don't think that's actually honest, that's how I'd honestly like to feel, as long as I was honestly justified in that thought. And then a couple honest thoughts came to the surface where I would say something about just how neat you are/were, what a great world this is, at least the corner over here, but even though I think some of that is honest, it's not honest enough since not personal enough, it's not idiosyncratic to how I feel right this minute. I Need More. When you're honest, the hope is that the honesty will be in some way shocking, invigorating, alive with new revelation.
It's interesting how when you look hard for one specific thing, that that specific thing, if it must represent anything at all, is very difficult to find: The One Honest Thing. The Best Day In Life. Your Favorite Animal. The Most Beautiful One. Because by being the best, it represents the beholder to some extent. To a large extent. And some of us thrive on that. Some of us find favorite everythings, so that we ourselves may be best defined, in the best company, with the best taste. And some of us balk. Lists are so compelling and interesting, because they can provide a deeper dimension to the power of best things. We don't have to stake everything on one favorite, since that particular favorite item will have flaws, and those flaws will reflect poorly on you. A list allows those flaws to be glossed over, unless they repeat throughout the list. What remains are the best of all worlds, the cream of the crop, the cherry on top.
My Favorite Snake as a child was the Black Mamba. My Best Friend's Favorite Snake was the Anaconda, and the only way I could beat that, the Largest Snake In The World, was by choosing the Black Mamba, The Fastest Snake In The World. My Best Friend and I always got in fights about this. He always chose the Biggest (Grizzly, Albatros) and I always chose the Fastest (Brown Bear, Peregrin Falcon). His Favorite Mystical Creature was the Manticore, mine was the Chimera. I'm The Most Off Topic I've Ever Been.
An honest moment. That's all you ask. I'm gay. Just kidding. I'm a Jew. Ah, screw it. There's nothing honest to be said now. Until next time.