80 Pages, 1 Subject

november 1 4am

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:28:47 +0000

It’s November 1st. Just barely. It’s 4:10 am. Light precipitation. I can’t sleep. I’m trying to adjust the power balance in my household. It’s been damaged because I broke my wrist. One little bone crack, everything changes.

I didn’t mean to write this. I’m not trying to write a story or anything. I’m trying to write a novel in fragments. Fragments of bone.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:31:40 +0000

I went for a walk in the neighborhood. I’ve spent a lot time walking in this neighborhood. The streets were quiet, just glazed with honey rain. Faint smell of donuts. I was glad to see the Dunkin’ Donuts was open. I didn’t encounter anyone, just heard someone in a car picking through people’s recycling for returnable bottles. I didn’t want to greet that person.

The only time I was afraid was when a brief yellow leaf fell onto my arm.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:33:36 +0000

I walked down the hill, the easement nobody owns. I thought there might be some kids there, drinking, fucking, smoking. There are some white plastic chairs back there, a trio of them, but they were empty. I thought about Al ruining his life, and how Blair rejected his friendship. I liked the stucco look of that garage. It reminds me of Italy, a place where kids hang out and ruin their lives as well, I guess.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:35:35 +0000

Lisa wrote me. I am hanging onto emails from Lisa and Olivia like lifesavers. I’m wondering if I should transfer my efforts to my own writing. Signs point me in this direction, but I don’t want to go. Maybe I should give it a try. Might make me happier in the household.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:36:41 +0000

The train goes by. It’s lovely to ride the train at this time of day. Very quiet passengers, almost empty trains. We took a train from Amsterdam’s train station back to the airport at this time. Working people with staid composure. Kids in dark baggy clothing.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:37:46 +0000

I’m wishing for my own soundtrack. I don’t think I have ever really lived my life. Just stepped through it. Looking backwards, while walking forwards. That’s how I broke my wrist. It was windy at the time.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:38:40 +0000

I could try to embrace this space. I could give it a try.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:39:04 +0000

TV noise at night bothers me. I feel very lonely. I remember Eli watching movies drunk in the middle of the night. What am I to do. Sam is asleep on the couch. The soundtrack of “Fast, Cheap and Out of Control” is pleasant. I can try to listen to it.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:40:13 +0000

There’s a stack of paper next to me and a stack of poems in front of me. “Backwoods Broadsides.” I enjoy seeing them there, in a little box decorated with pears. There’s a pile of pink ribbons with white dots on this desk. I picked them up from a rainy Nantucket sidewalk outside the Unitarian church. After a wedding. I guess they’d been used to tie wedding favors together.

admin — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 15:41:45 +0000

I want to stay relaxed.

I’m nervous about Sam coming upstairs. If he saw me writing, I would say “I’m writing.” I don’t want him to know what I’m doing.