Morning Yearning (Fragments)

____Another day another chance to get it right
____Must I still be learning?

____________Ben Harper





untitled, .:*ghost*:.

i am three pages into the new novel. this is an entirely new way of writing for me: no plans... only some scribbled notes of episodes- other than that, no real outline. a few people may recognize elements of themselves in it... i am at best an autobiographer, and at worst an egocentric bastard, so everyone's been chewed up by me and reformed to suit what I am writing.

i am writing a story about things i am presently concerned with:
____- the passing of time
____- the interaction of the past with the present, the present with the future, and the past with the future
____- restlessness
____- home and homelessness
____- the concept of homecoming- as old as the Odyssey... and still ununderstood.

also, i am writing about things i enjoy writing about:
____- little girls named Abigail (Abby)
____- those tiny buds at the end of prickly branches that tell me autumn's soon to be over
____- the motions of cigarette smoke after people exhale
____- women
____- the great unknown : the fear of : the only redemption-ticket : the future

i used to write in episodes. i am still doing that, but this novel isn't as poetic as the last (mostly because i am not toying around with love), so i don't need clearly defined sequences. There will be no chapters. i am writing one page per night. it seems a silly way to write, but those pages take a very long time because it requires me to imagine, not carry on the plotlines. i am hoping the story meanders a bit, occasionally feels stifled, and causes a few readers to slam their heads against the wall.

Here's the problem, usually i compose to music. the last novel had a clearly defined soundtrack,

TWO DAYS TILL WINTER, OST

____(1) Part, Tabula Rasa II. Silentuim
____(2) Autumn Leaves, Eva Cassidy
____(3) Wild is the Wind, Nina Simone
____(4) Don't Smoke in Bed, Nina Simone
____(5) Bizarre Love Triangle (acoustic), Frente
____(6) How It Ends, Devotchka
____(7) John Wayne Gacy, Jnr., Sufjan Stevens
____(8) Slow Show, the National
____(9) Vicious Traditions, the Veils
____(10) My Weakness, Moby
____(11) All Good Things (Come to an End), Nelly Furtado

and a few others. This present one for now... is somewhat lacking. All i have are an assortment of songs that remind me of LA.

UNTITLED SECOND NOVEL, OST

____(1) the Garden, Mirah
____(2) Dancing, Elisa
____(3) Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Pt2, My Morning Jacket
____(4) These Words, Natasha Bedingfield
____(5) Breathe Me, Sia
____(6) A Sunday Smile, Beirut
____(7) Don't Explain, Nina Simone
____(8) the Rip, Portishead
____(9) Videotape, Radiohead
____(10) What You Wanted, Angus and Julia Stone ____(thanks for killing me Monz)
____(11) Hometown Glory, Adele

and so on.

*___*___*

the waiting game continues. pieces of paper folded and put into envelopes, envelopes into post-boxes, weeks later show up in someone else's hands, opened, read, slid under the paper-clip that holds together other elements of me who i am who i have been who i want to be (that is to say: the future) in neat professional wording on pieces of paper, reads again later, makes phone calls, prints other papers that go into other envelopes that go into other post-boxes that end up in other people's hands that determine who i want to be (that is to say: the future).

my ability to endure (and dare i even suggest: enjoy) such a scenario is variable. Surely, there is nothing unpleasant about reading all day, at first at home in bed, then at the TeaBar (where I try a new tea and muffin combination everyday), then at home again. My hands are always cold (i am less alive than i used to be), so playing the piano hurts a little. That said, i do still sit and play through part 1 of Hanon: the Virtuoso Pianist in 60 Exercises. My hands are growing stronger. I can tell because of the way my fingers 'dip' into the keys now. It's a hard thing to describe, but it's obvious if you watch a novice pianist and a professional play, there's a fluidity to the way the fingers 'dip' into the keys- as though the board were a little stream and they were merely wetting their fingers but causing soo few ripples.

*___*___*

through patience, i have managed to reduce morning to afternoon. Now it is 12:12pm. (it does not alter that i have a mysterious sore-throat, cause unknown).

*___*___*

i love Tori Amos when she whispers and rasps.

*___*___*

POSSIBLE TITLES FOR NOVEL THAT MAY NEVER BE FINISHED:

____- the Limbo Machine
____- a Course in Purgatory
____- An Antonym for Sublime
____- Homegoing

(ok, so they all suck. it'll come to me)

*___*___*

12:20pm. in 20 seconds it will be 12:21pm. that is a palindrome and i love palindromes and will leave when the clock clicks over to-

(time's up