21 September (midnight)

The moon has come up and been risen for roughly 40 minutes. I have tea Amanda left me steeping to my right. My eyes are heavy and drooping like tired breasts. But I don't want to fall asleep. As though awake I have company, asleep I can only dream of it, and my actual guests leave in the morning. The only thing pressing my mind is desire - my heart, desire.

It is, oft times, easiest to laugh.

The coyotes have started howling, yelping, crying - banshees coming with the heavier winds, they roll in like the grim reaper. And vanish. But not gone, they'll wait, they'll gather, they'll weep in my driveway and jerk me from dreams and I'll roll and listen and howl my own heart. They must be cold, lonely, and I, in my cold room, grow lonely.

12 September

My cigarettes; your diet - my meditation; your Sunday worship - my lustful eyes; your national pride - my philanthropy; your tithes - my God; Your God - my God is your God - my dark habits and your sin are equally wrong - my hope is your hope and we both send our wishes to God - and God says thanks to you as God says thanks to me for the thanks we show, the help we give, the sin we reject, the secular we neglect, the hurt into which we interject to calm and comfort and glorify God in. There is but one nation in the sky, accepting of all passports.

Currently Reading (in order of most recent)

* Numeric English New Testament

* Life of Pi

* Ezra Pound - Collected Poems

* Martyrdom and Artifice, Allen Ginsberg's collected journals

31 August

Where are our standards? Yours? Mine? Theirs? Now, then? We could focus on who is magnificent now, but this must be based on our own. We can compare to then, but we'd have to compare to all history. Bob Dylan, Mozart, Beethoven as far as impact on their society and future artists. But what does this matter? Standards, no, are our own. Set by our selves. Based on that which we find important. Could our biggest downfall be thinking we're becoming more like our heroes?

As we recognize this idea, we see a likeness, as if to be becoming her. Or him. Kerouac, Lohan, O'steen, Oprah, Jesus. He who wrote the best "Self-help" book never wrote. He who inspired me most only shared what he did. The best words I can think of are, "... as taught by ..." Rather, in trying to be, we practice. In becoming, we recognize ourselves.