1001

The swami would say: if one door is closed then a thousand are opened for you. It's a terrible thing, that. Believing in something that's been handed down in your family for God knows how long, with charming innocence, and then finding, all of a sudden, you don't really believe in it. Not a question of faith; just that experience, life, gets in the way, alters the path.

For some, you guess, it's true. Maybe one in a thousand. If the moon doesn't shine on you, is it still the moon?

'Light from without would slowly reveal the light within...the white as a denser substance-some ghostly reminder of another place in which Rothko once said he could breathe and stretch his arms.'

Was thinking to myself (who else is there?), why does the word 'dark' crop up so much in your writing? I guess you need Camus's southern light, Nietzsche in Turin and all that. What is it, for Christ's sake, the moral quality of light, the traveling acres of sunlight. The constants that I look for are a love of light and a determination to trace some moral chain of being.I imagine a certain girl, who's probably a vampire in all truth, who craves my darkness in her, who couldn't give a fuck about the light.

"The morning light is gold, and pours in the eastern windows. But it is the shadow that is exciting, the light that cannot be defined."

~~~

Yesterday, out of the blue (F)ariel popped up-after seven or eight years...I forget. How fitting, since she got me started on this blasted thing in the first place, and now a special guest appearance on the 1,000th. Last time I saw her she was a bright-eyed girl, looking to write short stories, or something like that.

Your mind drifts: short stories and fragments: is that all that is open to us in these late days?