My Dumb Daily Pilgrimmage: Day 3

warhol-basquiat

It’s possible that today I finished a long poem I’ve been working on since November or December. Could this be a benefit of this pilgrimmage? I don’t know if I would have read Helen Vendler’s essay today (cited below)—I would have wanted to, and then put it off or forgot about it—had I not known that I would be documenting my reading before going to bed. Her essay allowed me to finish the poem, or to conceive of finishing the poem, or to want to finish the poem.

Although it’s true there might have been a better poem lurking inside, had I just retained my focus. I had another ending in mind when I swiped left to check the MLB American League East baseball standings. Of course, I lost the feeling and I forgot what I was going to write.

I need to employ another strategy for these posts. Probably for life. My sense is that, throughout the day, I had more to write about. The day was dramatic, in lots of concrete ways. Or oblique ways. The day shifted around inexpressed or unnamed emotion, and that is both concrete (“I wanted to throw the cup of water across the room”) and not (“I felt like a child crushed under the weight of the sky.”)

I don’t want to write about my life, because that is boring, but the version of my life I could have written here might have been more interesting. Or emotional. Or whole. This is incomplete.

My notes need to be better. I need to spend less time on the internet, because at the end of the day, when I am writing these, I feel wasted, not tired. Wasted. Also, I need to be more proactive. I remember what being proactive was like. Perhaps I am afraid.

 

Works consulted, May 20th, 2014:

Hill WilliamScott Mclanahan (about 140 pages)
“Murder in Uganda,” by Helen Epstein, in the April 10 issue of the NYRB, and the second part in the April 24 issue.
“John Berryman: Freudian Cartoons,” by Helen Vendler
Too Much of the Internet, including some of God Hates Astronauts

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