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gplewis · 7 years

Text

a few failed beginnings

Why one writes: to unload one’s neuroses without having to explain what every little thing means. it’s a place to talk without being analyzed; perhaps there’s no skin in the game or it’s post-skin somehow; it’s a vortex with comfy clothes

Luckily I’ll never be as obsessed about the perfection of these pages than I was when I was desperate for progress in those critical formative years of 26, 27, 28, 29 and 30. Yes, I’m a bit self-righteous about my age and experience now. I am a new narrator.

“Once written, the text becomes fixed.” —Ismail Kadare https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1105/ismail-kadare-the-art-of-fiction-no-153-ismail-kadare

thank God I failed at fame

I’m an enthusiastic innovator OK with failure; I like the brotherhood of the workday, I make a job a way to satisfaction and participation in the economy a form of play and spirituality; money is value and time is a fresh canvas to blow into and try to be heard by the system in the language it speaks; yes, systems and analytics need their preachers. It’s fun to know what to do and stay focused on the people.

I still want to play piano, sing, play tennis and soccer and baseball, have the choice always to turn to reading or listening (Chopin, Liszt, Rachmaninoff)

—

the book is a record of the person I was, and I feel pride in the young person who was able to write it all down https://theparisreview.org/interviews/6312/henri-cole-the-art-of-poetry-no-98-henri-cole ^ him at 40

another Saturday morning washed up on the shore of the in-between, another new before

comets fly days hum making a song

since women I adored have gone away; it’s OK, I emigrate like a bird to the blinking cursor, Notes track where and how I grew up,

http://www.narrativemagazine.com/issues/poems-week-2011-2012/poem-week/dress-rehearsal-apocalypse-tomas-q-morin like Lazarus he rose from the darkest beds taking the splinter where he broke and carved castles from jagged beds he took time to make

My language of obviousness has hollowed out like a hole in a tree and is filling with water; the structure of the Notes is irrelevant in ways - I am not going to publish a memoir about my life experience from 25 to 30; it's good that I have it and I'm proud of the young man who wrote it but I can't see my enthusiasm ever matching up to the action of suggesting someone else read what I have written

writing was a way out of the hell of not knowing myself or what to do

it’s a record of thrashing you’re reading now; thanks

But why throw your Notes at them when you can be nice instead? It’s not like I’m far away. If you ask me for my number I’ll give it to you and we’ll text. We can relate.

—

a tweetstorm I read that mattered https://twitter.com/jonst0kes/status/890970472774602752

life is work. also, love.

ivy climbing around poles, flowers popping out of tractor grates, nature fighting through and against and amid human insistence on place and stillness - nature exerting that time is fluid, everything is burning, things don't remain unbroken; time rusts all

The thing about the moment is it isn't going anywhere; we're gonna be here for the rest of our lives “what I was doing” is never rare; I need not hunt for anecdote https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2018/feb/17/elena-ferrante-im-tired-of-fiction-i-no-longer-see-a-reason-to-go-hunting-for-anecdotes

I have the record of what I was; so much data of two years ago and I edit it; I clean it up, make the trail from birth to hear traversable but we have to live today, bear the burden of survival every hour eat hydrate meditate pray the verbs that keep us together the best thing to do is to be something—use your body, use your day, use your manner of speaking to get a life that’s worth being seen and thought about—so far so good: connive your way to a safe career that finances your creative, spiritual efforts like typing thoughts, reading articles, playing piano, singing, having weekends, taking pictures; of course don’t be a public figure; twentysomethings who haven’t done therapy are going to stay up all day and night clutching their image on screen; you have an ambivalence that is rare and valuable but you have no patience for impressing any media elite

so write and grow to make the truth bearable hit notes well: sing, play, write, message, talk with a backdrop of defensible business career and healthy habits (diet, exercise, water, sleep) live into the years when you know how to write fiction because you have a fuller sense of the human condition - you know no one can save you; you know a profound solitude, a caring, nurturing, generative, restorative relationship with yourself alone at night, in the morning, over lunchtime, standing at a red light—that’s where the joy is

looking forward to seeing her was nice

a man typing to make himself feel better about his losses

Andante - walking pace Allegro ma non troppo - fast but without tripping

fuck literary elites: no one has a monopoly on what is nice to read, how solitude and disappointment draws eyes down and hearts open, seeking a like-minded soul with whom to bond, whose brave existence can make you feel seen, can give you reason to go on yet another day

one media source is insignificant because everything else is just as available

take my lovely worm out of the bag show you what I wrote

[years of sitting with the blinking cursor]

drugs, love, money, art, death, freedom, time, social media, banality and justice are all still of interest; they're the only things left to do once you’ve won career

Vanity, fear, desire, competition

thinking, feeling, living my life with access to a keyboard and the endless internet occupying this political and personal moment in time as my body accelerates toward certain demise

typing, my voice is all I’m left with here at the edge of late capitalism, Saturday, overcast a plane flies overhead

I have no plans except and love shall stomp a new era

a rainforest glistening with possibilities a house on the coast, working from home so many lives I could explain which could be self-sustaining I have many two-year stints left to luxuriate in

and words will fill the pages of my days because a keyboard is where my soul is home

the people I love are out there people who love are out there

we all want the same thing: a safe home, a supportive community, education, time to pursue our curiosity, to contribute meaningfully

I know who I am now

I’m here for the collapse of capitalism

I’m ready for a role in the world as it and I will be

I fear no fate

I love life, I trust life, I am a fucking miracle

I think people will get what they deserve Good people find each other and

Bad people get found out.

the lame crown-pieces at the tops of traditional hierarchies who don’t do anything difficult or admirable are gonna come crashing down

systems of government based on blockchain technology, i.e. transparency

get the rich people at the top out of power—distribute wealth down for education, health care, housing, food, infrastructure, community projects

why is this money sitting in bank accounts? 2017 is the light shone on all dark corners of American reality and the 99% are not going quietly to their desk jobs

millennials are killing everything wasteful and actually think about consequences and interconnectivity

I was made for the future I am just as opinionated and demanding as I was at 26 at the height of burning intensity

Now I've gotten therapy and found a safe career and I'm 100% logged on

and we know that connection is the electric pursuit so

edit something in public and realize it doesn’t need to be there!

working on your front door is good work to do because everyone walks through

06. Connection is the electric pursuit reread and skimmed 10/10 10:11am (21 pages)

As my aging MacBook circles the drain, I wonder: have I overestimated my computing needs? https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/wj9bdm/i-tried-to-replace-my-laptop-with-my-phone-and-a-dollar20-bluetooth-keyboard how much footprint do I really need? I will have to learn how little I have to control (as far as images stored and available and my habits well-worn, i.e. I know the click and search path to getting any particular image I can remember - always honing my library - perhaps that’s the fate of man who’s transcended hourly rate and execution for others’ profit-making schemes

https://www.technologyreview.com/s/511276/free-speech-in-the-era-of-its-technological-amplification/

late nights engaged in conversations on Usenet https://medium.com/s/trustissues/the-messy-fourth-estate-a42c1586b657

to be imaginatively drawn into the sticky world of some nearby human being’s home life https://www.technologyreview.com/s/410623/i-just-called-to-say-i-love-you/

The numbers keep getting worse: the true energy costs of AI, connected devices, and cryptocurrency https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/dec/11/tsunami-of-data-could-consume-fifth-global-electricity-by-2025 written by a beautiful woman ripe with life https://genius.com/Talib-kweli-joy-lyrics

The numbers keep getting worse: a memoir of a civilization before its collapse

tsunami of data will consume all Human Resources https://twitter.com/katecrawford/status/1046766828939341824?s=21 giving to the void of send, to the possibly seen the atomization of my desire to be real that’s what will take up electricity for the rest of days

our endless desire for connection is what kills us in the end!  OR we become part of the worldwide effort to save humanity in heroic fashion by therapy for everyone, a collective Kumbaya, a come-to-Jesus moment where we actually come to [have?] a savior and worship, love and people are loved and adored instead of fear and money but we love images and the devices that serve we are comfortable holding an abstraction of the world in our hands and we can operate our piece in it and yes, then we sit down to dinner and realize our body is just the container of our situation...our body is an emissary of the struggle for survival and love we are in this year this month

The craving for that single stranger-filled neighborhood would not stop with the telegraph. Over the next hundred years, radio, television, and even the telephone all dramatically increased the number of daily interactions people have with information. https://medium.com/@Marinaccio/the-telegraph-changed-how-you-spend-your-time-9a691d860e11

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