some eat ice cream out on the lawn. at night when I get in, they’re in the back yelling at each other, other times laughing, wafting the smell of their grill over the fence. windows closed. jet engines. news is quite behind a cut off black television screen. radio classical music is silent to the pure reading going on, pure to me, far from pure.
an attempt to sincerely speak something right, communicate, write in effective journal, where the picture becomes the big picture, clearer from further away. I console the ill. if you let me read I will be here with you, quiet accepted me, I thank you for this, you will have a warm gentle company, provided you provide simply this. volume eight sadly comes to its end. I am proud to turn pages, since I am stunted, but saddened to depart with a companion. and I thank my friends in P. for the strong and fond memories of recent past, almost by now (and even then) quite surreal. friends have asked if we will be bored in the new place, asked in a sweet, caring kind of way. it is one thing that doesn’t worry me too much, because I hardly go out any more. once you know a place, you feel like you’ve seen enough and it’s time to go back inside. if you go out you wind up going back in anyway. it is time to go back. it is time to go. and so, the title for the new journal emerges: “the winding down of time.”
the women there keep their thoughts to themselves poorly, write their hatred on their faces, the me-ism streams their clothes, they brake their mirrors from overuse, the mater in materialism is dead tired of them, they begin boring themselves and fall asleep on their desks, the theaters won’t have them, the buses of all sizes consider these the outcasts due to their pride, their blind shut eyes, their thieving catalogue lusts . . . I learn to kiss it goodbye like a strong Russian trapped in a Dostoevsky prison buried beneath Siberian snow.
getting married means soldering someone else onto yourself and dealing with it. make allowances and think hard, be guided by devotion. it is really important not to act out of anger. I throw myself down on the bed and let time pass, or watch a movie in the evening. then I am calm and can get back to the serious work of reading my spiritual master’s book, re-reading the paragraphs to make sure I understand, laughing in amazement . . .
I feel strong.