three years ago you showed up, all wiry and strong — plucked from your mama on a rainy morning after a long labor. it seems you were stuck, so to speak. we named you Beckett after the playwright. one day you’ll either hate that name or love it, but you’re okay with it right now. you just went down for a nap. in an hour, the house will be bursting at the seams with friends and you’ll probably emerge from your big boy bed rubbing your eye, your signature move.
I love you.
This is the painting I’m going to drop off at Atomic Books on Sunday, which will be hung up on Monday. I’ll go the reception on Friday. The reception is from 7 to 10. You should go there and meet me and see all the exciting small pieces of art on the wall.
told my boss I quit twitter this morning. told him later that I was back on. He said, “that’s what we call addiction.”
So be it.
The thing is, it is such a multiplicity of voices. Sometimes it can get overwhelming. Sometimes you want to shout: “hey, shut up for a minute.”
And sometimes it is wonderful. People you’ve never met congratulating you on getting into an art show, encouraging you to pick up Dostoevsky, making you laugh.
I’m going to have a little faith in myself and just cut back. Only check it in the morning and once at night.
So much other things to do. Like diving into Dostoevsky. Good night.
I just finished Wittgenstein’s Nephew by Thomas Bernhard, which I found disappointing. It is a rambling narrative with a couple great lines in it, but also a lot of self-indulgent twaddle.
The whole experience brings to mind Berryman’s line “Rilke was a jerk”:
Rilke was a jerk
I admit his griefs & music
& titled spelled all-disappointed ladies
A threshold worse than the circles
Where the vile settle & lurk
Rilke’s. As I said,—
Maybe on the same lines, I just deactivated my twitter account. I might go back, who knows, but I felt like it was too much noise. When you’re checking twitter in the middle of dinner and when you wake up to take a piss in the middle of the night, well that just ain’t living.
I deleted the app from my phone along with snapchat and facebook. Next up, sell my car and buy a pull cart and good walking shoes.
all the angry everybodies. angry all the time. travel time lost time the bodies hurtling towards their destinations. buy a book buy a coffee fasten your seat belt. confine yourself. repetition repetition brain on fire trapped in this timeless point A to point B routine.
layer paint over paint. scratch and remove. it’s more about the erasures than the accretions. this process is about removal, eradication, extermination. all that phenobarbital too tired for class too tired for gym class too tired for being a kid. all that lightning storm in the brain.