Sleep with your eyes open. Imagine yourself drifting down a river on a piece of debris from some disaster. Imagine a calm river. Slowly, it rose and the sleeping town had no prediction for this rising, being subsumed and taking off of plots of land and replaced with riverbed, where we will eventually sleep, no fear, just dreams of oxygen or of a dry day from the past before the deluge uprooted our houses and sent them slowly drifting down river into the ocean, up the smiling face of the secretly erupting mountain, no geologist could predict, and the top is exploded, forgotten hikers are lost, and the writing is forced and feels like an exercise in patience and perseverance over self defeat when easily I could begin to write about the doubt involved in writing and the freedom of cleared away cobweb inspiration also gets subsumed by this slow, huge river. I'm imagining a glacier that melted in a splash, in an instant, miles of ice phase changed in a light bulb flash, and a brief waterfall as if a raincloud split open and poured itself out like my belgian beer or the whiskey stained back seats of the car, mixed in with potting soil, birthday cake icing, salt from the flats west of salt lake city, movie moments erased by a tidal wave of thoughts. Thoughts dark or ominous or full of potential regret.
Kill the guilt narrative. There may be an undertone in all of your writing. There may be insecurities and yet when the writing comes out well it is unapologetic.
Met up with Tom to go see Rural Alberta Advantage and makes me want to pretend their is a draft so I can move to Canada and start anew in a Banff cabin or the Mt. Stevens byway, the Jefferson Crater national fire monument, the green-sky ravine, under the aurora, the great barrier reef of the mountains, the hard edged sword rock or the copernicus butte. whatever mountain terrain names. disappear into them with a headlight and never let it burn out entirely.
Intended to go to Dry The River. I rushed through work to do so. Tess refused to meet up on top of the hill and we wouldn't be able to catch a bus until 10:30. The hill had blacked out. The whole greek system went dark and the chaos of candle-lighting inspired the fear to to come back, the daunting trees and shadows caused by them and yet what backlight? we are suddenly lost in the woods after dark and the trees creak and houses all take on resemblance of tombs and she was scared left in the apartment with a few candles and shivering under the electric blanket...
