Thursday, June 6, 2002

a tom hanks movie, an early one

Sometimes, I think I am getting dumber and dumber - like I sort of constantly feel drunk - where there is this haze that prevents me from expressing myself adequately when I sit down to write these little entries. I think part of the problem lies in the fact that I am never in the right mindset to write these things when I do, because I always have to write them in the library in the middle of the day when nothing really has happened yet. I really want Bonnie to figure out how to hook up her computer so that I don't have to try to write these anymore when I am not really in diary writing mode or mood.

I mean there is so much that I love and so much that has been processed by my brain in the past twenty-four hours that I feel I should document - that I should try to decipher what exactly it all means here. But why do I have this desire? Why can I not just read some Henry Miller and David Foster Wallace essays and let their messages seep into my being - just enjoy the thing called life - just love Henry for helping me to see this beautiful sunshiny day for just that? Well, I guess a reading of a work should also be an active dialogue with those ideas and an attempt at intergrating them into one's schema. And so i guess that is why I want to talk about Henry Miller's prescription for living and Wallace's advice to young writers and how he urges sincerity above irony - how some of the passages were giving voice to what I had always sort of half-thought, about how obnoxious I found heavy irony - how I long for sincerity in writing and living. I want to spit in the face of your wry pretensious chuckles. Good hearty chuckles are a whole nother matter - those are the thing - the good thing. The bullseye.

Oh - Bonnie and I went on another book stealing spree last night and neither of us understand what all the hype about JT Leroy is. Everyone really loves him, and it seems sort of out of control. He just writes about salicious things - that is the only thing he really has going for him - his writing is not that good and shock-value seems so tired these days. We've seen it all. Tell us something new, about your soul, about ours, about how we fly. I mean Sharon Olds is one of his biggest supporters and along with Dennis Cooper, the person that helped him get published. Sharon fucking Olds - one of the most talented writers who shows us those things we need to and yet never see; she likes this Leroy boy and I just wonder why, why, why? Perhaps some of my disdain for Leroy also has something to do with jealousy. That here is this really successful person my age who is a literary darling, and perhaps I wish I was. But, that would require putting pen to paper. And maybe since I don't have a job yet, and even if I did would still have lots of free time, maybe this will be one of my many goals for this summer: to write something big.

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