Fate and ghosts

Just after midnight, sitting in the dark, a book open on the iPad before me, and listening to Beethoven’s piano concerto number one, I believe fate had nothing much in store for me except moments such as these.  Let the moment be, for these moments are ghosts who live here too.  I no longer begrudge them a place to stay.

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Published in: on August 13, 2012 at 1:45 am  Leave a Comment  

The desire/belief causality direction

It is desire that engenders belief, and if we are not as a rule aware of this, it is because most belief-creating desires–unlike the desire which had persuaded me that Albertine was innocent–end only with our own life.

Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

Published in: on November 5, 2011 at 9:34 am  Leave a Comment  

Spectacularly attractive

She’s a young bartender at one of the local restaurants.  Yes, her boobs are spectacularly big.  But she’s pretty and nice too.  You are so smitten.  It makes you wish you were young and not so shy.

Published in: on November 4, 2011 at 10:45 am  Leave a Comment  

Thick black clouds at sunset

Sunset arrived.  Then thick black clouds.  I sat in the dark reading Murakami on my iPhone.

Now that I think about it, the day was destined to end this way and night commence.

Published in: on October 27, 2011 at 5:49 pm  Leave a Comment  

Stars

The big city is alright.  But sometimes, you miss living out in the country where you can see all those stars glittering in a moonless sky.

I suppose that is like missing the love of your life who you have not seen all these thousands of days.

It all comes down to choices and the things you can never have back.

Published in: on October 26, 2011 at 12:09 am  Leave a Comment  

Clines

The long days go by consumed by geometry.  Even chess goes by the wayside.  Desire is a changeable thing.

What was I going to say about clines?

Published in: on June 15, 2011 at 8:24 am  Leave a Comment  

A fork

A pencil, pencil sharpener, a notebook scatter shot with geometry stuff, and Apollonius’s Conics open on the table: the desire to spend the rest of the day playing blitz chess on the Internet overwhelms my need to continue writing the book.

Either option seems pretty damned good.

Published in: on May 23, 2011 at 9:26 am  Leave a Comment  

Desire or lack thereof

So fucking awesomely bored–maybe, that’s why I spend 10 to 12 hours each day writing a stupid geometry book. (And you’ve to get up early in the morning to do that.)

But I like it. At one point in my dismal life, it was a dream.

Euclid, Hilbert, and Alone

I have Euclid’s Elements on one side of me and Hilbert’s Foundations of Geometry on the other side.  I’m trying to build a bridge in my mind between the two.  I find it desperately lonely and hard work.  I labor on it for at least 12 hours each day.

The thing that makes it even harder than it should be is that I have no one to talk to about it.  The major parts of my thoughts are locked in solitary confinement.

That’s the nature of desire though.  It’s the thing most personally felt even though the least most noticed by others.

Let’s call the situation a secret romance.

Published in: on April 26, 2011 at 2:04 pm  Leave a Comment  

Ozone and desire

Lost in the ozone again–as I recall some song back in the ’70s had that title or lyric, but that’s not what I really want to talk about. I am smitten by a women’s volleyball coach, but she is smitten by the bartender.

Such is the nature of desire.

Published in: on February 25, 2011 at 1:00 am  Leave a Comment  

Far away

In a way, I spent the day watching Euclid prove a math theorem and Montaigne write an essay.

Worse things could happen.

Published in: on December 30, 2010 at 8:29 pm  Leave a Comment  

One more year?

I’ve decided to be a writer for one more year, probably from sheer stubborn persistence than anything else. Plus, I kind of dig it.

Published in: on December 29, 2010 at 9:02 pm  Leave a Comment  

May, 1919 in Paris

It was May, 1919 in Paris–all manner of things happened–a collage of the old and new.  When you stepped outside your apartment, you did not know what the future would bring.  The warmth and sunlight made you forget you cared.

Not just the map of the world was being reshaped, but all of science and art too.  Reading a good book at a table outside a bistro seemed the only terra firma.

Published in: on December 21, 2010 at 2:38 pm  Leave a Comment  

A provocative question

After all isn’t the purpose of a novel, or a museum, for that matter, to relate our memories with such sincerity as to transform individual happiness into a happiness all can share?

The Museum of Innocence, Orhan Pamuk

Published in: on December 15, 2010 at 12:07 am  Comments (4)  

Annals of the self

I think my first real appreciation of American poetry came from the TV series Voices and Visions.  The series describes the lives and works of 13 American poets from Whitman to Plath.  There is also a beautiful companion book to the series.

I can honestly say I have purchased and read the works of those poets.  The works have a pride of place in my library equal to the classics.  The poems are something I always return to with delight and wonder.  It’s as if they are an encyclopedia of desire.

“Who are you?” is the most important question.  “I am many,” is the short answer Whitman gave.  One can prove it by Reason and from Experience, but Reason and Experience do not detract from that other way of knowing–Revelation.

Published in: on December 4, 2010 at 3:55 pm  Comments (4)  

The annals of desire is a bitch again

I hate myself for being smitten by her still, after these kazillion years. But I can’t help it.

I’ve always been able to lay off things I can’t have except for women.

Is it possible to desire anything when you’ve already got it?

Does that question sound definitional?

Published in: on November 17, 2010 at 8:56 pm  Leave a Comment  

Bitch: more annals of desire

I’m at the part where Keith talks about trying to kick his heroin habit.  It’s so analytic.

Earlier, he’d talked about getting bad marks in his math and science studies and how he had not done well at them. But I’m almost positive he could have done well there too if that was his desire–such are his analytical skills.

Desire, it’s such a lovable bitch.

Published in: on November 17, 2010 at 11:42 am  Leave a Comment  

Stray dog annals

She sits real close to me in the bar, but she has her daughter in tow. I get her shit faced. She leans into me and says, “I’d fuck you if I weren’t with my daughter and it wasn’t her birthday.”

“I’ll pay her cab fare back to the hotel,” I say.

Nothing doing. Another stray dog that missed my list.

I hate that.

Published in: on November 12, 2010 at 4:59 pm  Leave a Comment  

Stop it or I’ll whisper for help

You are slightly smitten by her.  When you finally worked up the courage to ask what she did for a living, she said she was a dominatrix.

Hmm?

Published in: on November 12, 2010 at 12:02 pm  Leave a Comment  

Milky Way

A perfectly temperate and clear night in Chicago with the lingering light of sunset desultorily hanging on. What I wouldn’t give to see the Milky Way. But that ain’t gonna happen with these damnable city lights and such.

But I know it is out there–the Milky Way, that is–and I’ll just pretend I saw it. As pretty as it is for real, it might even look prettier in my mind’s eye.

Published in: on August 15, 2010 at 8:29 pm  Leave a Comment  

The persistence of Antony

We were reading Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra.  Our discussion leader persisted in asking us what we would choose: ruling the world or possessing the love of the most beautiful person in the world–if we could have only one.  That’s a question I could not answer almost 20 years ago and still can’t.

Yet the question persists.  Maybe, it is time to explore it if not answer it.

Published in: on August 6, 2010 at 3:36 pm  Leave a Comment  

Every decade

I read a copy of War and Peace I’ve downloaded to the iPad.  She has fallen asleep on the couch.  I mute the TV without bothering to notice what she has been watching.  I turn off the light next to the chair where I sit reading.  Reading something on the iPad in the dark intensifies the nighttime reading experience.

Her hair has fallen across her face as she sleeps.  She’s recently cut it and colored it a soft auburn, an auburn that flatters her face.

I finish War and Peace before midnight.  I run the numbers.  I’ve read it five times in 45 years, once every decade since I was 17.  A small sadness comes upon me, for I feel I will never read it again.  The memory of it will fade even when I look at it sitting on a bookshelf.

I download The Big Short and begin reading it.  I am quickly absorbed.  I can read again for the sheer pleasure of reading.

She wakes at around 1:30.  We go to bed.  Even after sex, I am not tired.  I go back to the chair and read until I fall asleep shortly before dawn.  When I wake it is light outside.  I go back to bed, but do not sleep long.  I get up and start reading again.  She sleeps on.

I finish reading The Big Short just before she rises late in the morning.  I make another pot of coffee.  Over coffee she apologizes for falling asleep early.  I tell her it’s OK since I had good books to read.

“That’s one of the reasons I like inviting you over.  You know how to entertain yourself,” she says.

The thought passes quickly through my mind: it will be strange when she’s gone.

Published in: on August 2, 2010 at 9:23 am  Leave a Comment  

Drifting and dreaming part 5,000

A night warm and gentle.  A night for drifting and dreaming.  A night for knowing, deep down, you are who you think you ain’t.

Published in: on May 20, 2010 at 9:13 pm  Leave a Comment  

Lower than whale shit

I’ll admit it. I’ve been writing more on Facebook than my blog. I feel so cheap and tawdry.

Fuck it. I’ve been feeling lower than whale shit for a long time. And the sad part of it is I don’t why.

And postcard lenghth streches my two brain cells. So, Facebook works.

Published in: on May 13, 2010 at 8:01 pm  Comments (2)  

Colder by the lake

Listening to Boot Liquor Radio, writing his memoirs, he glances out the window and for the first time feels he might live another 30 years.

A chill runs through him.

Published in: on May 5, 2010 at 9:46 am  Leave a Comment