Done with another thousand. And after this entry, I’m assured to continue. As I’m on quite the roll, and on a third page, like Updike. Should be writing poetry right now, but this rushed voice is so enabling. With this year, my opposition to TV intensifies. I make believe–no, CONVINCE mySelf–it doesn’t exist. That I don’t hear it.
Read the intro from 1/1/12, when I was still at the box [only for twenty more days, I think, which I of course didn’t know, but had hunches my final fiddles were plotted]. How does Time pass so quickly, without us really noticing, appreciating? AND, how did I ever find mySelf in that position? Doesn’t matter as this is a truly NEW Mike that writes this entry. Beer empty. Need another. Something. Maybe some of that Cabernet from last night– No. Saving that for dinner. 2010, perfectly oak’d, and totally tantalizing. And why do I title this entry so? I’m moving. Away. From it.
Connected much less, with this new year, to social media. Even email. And I’ll tell my students: “Don’t depend on email.” Take yourself back to the twenties, when there wasn’t such convenience, immediacy.
9:02PM. After dinner, and a glass of that Cab, I’ve resolved that I should NEVER have 2 blogs. So.. at 2014’s end, either bottledaux or maddenedread will be terminated. That’s how it has to be, frankly. My students should receive printed pages from their professor, not an urgency to “check out the latest post”. Feel like I’m already in mode for sleep. But not before I have one last glass of the Cab. Then verse, in journal. See? I’m stretched too thin. Ms. Plath didn’t have this problem, did she! She took to her poems, and that’s precisely it. I’ll follow such mold. These blogs are too much. Maybe I’ll execute both…
9:19. Last glass. My Plath article.. thinking of what she’d write about herself. No way for me to truly know, but as I re-read some of her Colossus pieces, like “All the Dead Dears”, I see her challenge to death. That she doesn’t fear it; That she wants to explore its notion, how it affects all of us.
Think this Cab’s starting to catch me a bit. But I won’t let it. I can write faster than it can drop into my circulation. My friend Scott S on mind.. what he’d tell me to do. Is that selfish, that I think of mySelf in wake of his departure?
Still can’t believe what happened. We hadn’t talked in years, but when we did spend time together, we always laughed, always. Life, more than short. And I’m not waiting for anything. You don’t even know, and are not prepared for, what’ll come from my pen this year.
Tired. The first 2014 page, draining me like nothing else has, at its introductory stages. And the heater comes on. Where is the rain? This year’s question: Which blog is sent to death? One, the other, or both? They should both be fearful.
Arrows is disc-like cones,
No halo known, lakes under reason’s
Dome. Haunt, taunt; pawn.