writing requires a lot of sitting still and staring. 

especially this novel-writing business. 

also, pacing. cleaning the house.

it reminds me of grad school... having papers due... my house was always spotless around finals. 

i am spending a lot of time cultivating my stillness and enjoying my time while i am in it. e said, "when did you become such a jock?"

i think the answer is: when i found it helped me live inside myself fully, presently, and joyously.

it is very difficult to be unhappy when you are active. i'm not saying it is impossible. once i remained severely cranky even though. but. hell. let's face it dear ones... 2008 has been one long life lesson. [not that every year of life isn't, but, this one has been... especially rough... and has required a  lot of presence of mind and a lot of trial-and-error.]

anyway, i just wanted to say Happy New Year. and talk about sitting and staring as writing.

new tracks for the track.

1. when you say nothing at all --  alison krauss and union station

2. just dance -- lady gaga & colby o'donis

3. don't stop the music -- rihanna (wideboys club mix)

4. promiscuous-- nelly furtado & timbaland

5. the real slim shady -- eminem

6. shake that -- eminem

7. in da club-- 50 cent

8. Ayo Technology -- 50 cent w/ justin timberlake

9. speakerphone -- kylie minogue

10. feedback (moto blanco full vocal remix) -- janet jackson

11.  maneater -- nelly furtado

12. breathe me (mylo mix) -- sia

13. drifting away -- faithless

enjoy.

i am celebrating New Year's Eve soberly and writerly.

i'm relieved by this.

two days that always seem so loaded with expectation:

New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day.

i'm a non-celebrant.

New Year's Day, however, i am going for a long run with friends and writing some more. i'm excited about that.

*

drive safe peoples. 

racquetball helped. i'm less cranky.

now i will try and write.

i don't know why i'm telling you.

maybe it makes me feel obligated.

sometimes i'm so damn dutiful.

chris plays racquetball very well.

one day.

i will kick his ass.

and he will be so proud.

and take credit for it, too.

which.

he should.

i'm cranky.

playing racquetball at 7.

knee hurts. as usual.

heart still broken.

and i'm cranky.

i hope i can write tonight.

i'm a little bit down. 

today.

went on a short run tonight, due to yesterdays 5-mile escapade all over both of Duke's campuses and even Gardens. i have been chatting up all my MFA Fiction pals for advice. i didn't write but 133 words yesterday. this is fine. i'm interested in enjoying this. and staying present. remember?

i began reading the Book of Baruch by Justin.

last night.

but, yesterday belonged to the NFL and physical activity.

my dogs drag me to chris vitiello's house every walk because they are in love with his daughters. they like him pretty well, too, but... the girls are just... where it *is* for my dogs.

tonight is for homemade mexican food and thinking about the novel.

i don't know about writing tonight.

and Applecare does cover my computer, so. Macs still rule.

confused?

	Clear		Temperature: 44°F Feels Like: 44°F Humidity: 54% UV Index: 0 Low		Time Until Sunrise: 36 hrs 7 min Sunrise 7:26 AM Sunset 5:11 PM

vertical lines are beginning to pop up on my 2006 Mac-intel display and Mac is supposed to call me in two hours to tell me if Applecare covers this issue.

i'm going to be positively IRATE if they don't fix my monitor.

thanks.

dang!

GO EAGLES!

lord.

i love running. 

it felt so good to run. my knee is still tender, but. wow.

i love running.

now.

novel. with a little NFL in the background.

for those of you keeping count

7007 words

top of page 33

and, i think it has finally begun. the novel. i think the voice of it is finally here. 

people have asked why i am counting words. 

i am treating the writing of this as a job, for now. 8 hours a day. with page goals.

until it becomes more fluid.

i was reading the Gnostic Bible again last night, excerpts from the Gospel of John. it is much easier for me to read these as poems. they are poems. did you know?

John wrote sparingly. 

i have to get to writing my real writing now. 

i am running 5 miles today.

i am going to avoid my blog for a time.

happy new year.

i just had a very frank discussion about several things with two very dear friends.

and i came home.

and my dogs are watching some show. i'm not kidding. on tv. with Gwyneth Paltrow and some heavy red-headed dude... where they are both just eating and having a very 

:california: LA: talk

about food.

WTF bear and jack????

geez.

do we need to talk about cheese that nobody can afford?

one of the best things about today is that it is only Friday.

i have typed 4,556 words in/of my novel.

three em-dashes.

and it is only Friday.

i am up at 4 am because i'm having a language crisis.

why does language fail?

maybe the more correct question is: why do i give language the power to fail me?

i just want to go the buccaneer motel in Nag's Head and stare at the Outer Banks until i find some peace. wouldn't that be nice?

this is serious because i'm even drinking coffee already...

*

it all began with the word "perfect."

and then the word "love."

*

even bear dog is on the floor, licking with his nervous lick.

*

okay.

when i see, hear, use [which is rare, indeed], encounter the word:

PERFECT

it automatically registers as IMPERFECT. to attain PERFECTion means something akin to acceptance of IMPERFECTION. true acceptance of this limitation put upon us all.

this automatic interpolation of the notion of perfection has been completely absorbed. like my vision--these are the eyes i have. one sees far. one sees close. perfection is imperfect. of course it is.

i send this quote to my dearest.

from the Gospel of Truth, on who a gnostic is:

"It is they who manifest themselves truly, since they are in that true and and eternal life and speak of the perfect light filled with the seed of the father, which is in his heart and in the fullness, while his spirit rejoices in it and glorifies him in whom it was, because the father is good. And his children are perfect and worthy of his name, because he is the father. Children of this kind are those whom he loves."

[and, i bet yr thinking, wow, she really does believe in God. and the answer is, yes, i really do believe in God. i don't blame God, or god, for what his followers have done, will do, are doing.]

of course. she is right to call the use of PERFECT into question. finding humanity imperfect. and that being the gift, really, of God... allowing us this imperfection and choices.

but i read it. as imperfect and therefore perfect.

because, what more can be expected of humans?

is it really in the striving that we are perfect?

what is the problem?

the problem is that we didn't understand each other. we have different dictionaries.

*

and then there is translation. and deconstruction. and the use of declarative statements. and then i went into my automatic resentment towards Kerouac and, now, Bolano.... for their indiscriminate travel and fucking.... i mean, i do have a knee-jerk "those fucks" reaction to these narratives about men traveling all over and doing whatever they feel like doing... maybe it is because my life as a man has yet to be lived... but, really, i think it is because there is an assumed understanding that this is going to happen and these things are so "transcendent" and wow. what a poetic lifestyle.

fucks.

i don't even care if yr mad at me.

you should know i'm having a moment.

*
and then a quote from JS

*

and here i am.

not in a rage
but frustrated that communication is dependent upon language. and frustrated that, in purely epistolary relationships [which are RAMPANT now, due to email and texting]... communication is become NOT-.

and it makes me feel small.

and that the world is a OUIJA board.

[for example, you should INTRODUCE yrself, random so-and-so, before you make comments. i think it only polite. and not so frightening.]

*

and then, i think....

but, i believe, i fundamentally believe, in the reader's autonomy.

i don't believe in the authority of the author.

*

o.

these are pieces of a morning.

i will take a nap.

walk the dogs.

eat breakfast.

go for a run.

and then enter language. as if i have a choice.

*

i'm knocking on wood as i write this:

i haven't been sick in an awfully long time for me not to be sick.

choosing to live a good life is working out well.

i'm writing. still.

and doing core work.

you know. during the pauses.

"we are sparks of light caught in a perishable body"

*

i am, indeed, reading the Gnostic Bible (barnstone & meyer, eds)

i find it comforting.

merry christmas peoples.

i ate a lot of Chinese food today. it is only 4:30 and i have eaten entirely too much.

cookies, pie, Chinese food. twice.

i wrote 9 pages in the novel today. so far.

i have 20 typewritten pages. about 50 handwritten pages still remain to be added. and typed.

as i am transcribing i am writing and this is making the process meditative and satisfying.

after 100 pages i will actually read it.

and see if anything will survive my editing.

i have been known to cut over half of something. because i deem it to else-ness.

it is fine.

i know what i'm doing.

i have a purpose to what i say. and if i seem sloppy, it is intended that i seem sloppy.

*

it is 60 degrees outside. i have taken two long walks with the dogs. it is gorgeous and i wish i could run, but, my knee has been quite unhappy and i'm a little scared that i will over-exercise it. i do that. so. i am reading the Gnostic Bible and writing and walking and over-eating [o, i am going to feel so sleepy soon...] today.

*

i like this whole day to myself business.

nobody is around. not even in the streets.

ran three miles.

am working on the novel.

all i want to do is sleep, though. i feel so tired.

i am so looking forward to the next 4 days of running and writing.

and racquetball. 

i am very grateful.

i live a good life.

i choose to live a good life. 

maybe being present is exhausting when you are new to it.

merry Christmas everyone!

left to my own devices....

for the winter, at least, i would be in bed each work night by 8pm. read myself to sleep. wake by 4:30 or 5 am... write... go to work from 8-2... take a nap... finish working my 8 hours by 5... do some kind of exercise... meet friends for dinner... and, then, yes, 8pm....

i meant to say

i am writing a novel to be present

the novel is about non-presence.

it is also about presenting.

writing a novel requires presence.

my brain is presence-resistant.

i am writing a novel about how not to disappear when yr taught it is only the right thing to do.

my language is my language.

i no longer allow room for chastisement in my life.

i feel stronger for knowing that. and articulating that. 

writing a novel requires language.

it requires presence in language.

language can be unpresenting.

i had a dream last night that i was reading in SF. i was supposed to be reading from RNB, and it was a group reading... 6 writers... all i remember is Chris Vitiello was with me and reading there, too. 

anyway.

when i went up to read: RNB was an enormous fold-out map. 

i tried to remember lines.

but, it was so jarring, i couldn't remember anything.

i just kept unfolding the book, trying to find what i had written.

*

i had another dream that i bought a giant house on Duke's East Campus.

*

i didn't run yesterday. when i came home to let my dogs out, walking up the stairs made my knee hurt. it feels like i am bruised. i don't see a bruise. i don't remember knocking into anything. 

just racquet to face.

my lips are bruised. you can't see that.

maybe i bruise invisibly?

*

today i will endeavor to stay in the present for the entire day.

and. already i have failed. 

[because i planned ahead of this moment. by planning the entire day.]

*

i can tell you that i did indeed write last night. i am working on something. a novel. 

tentatively called

echo   line    echo

only, i can't like the way that looks.

echo//line//echo

echo.line.echo.

hmn.

*

i feel warm, today. it is 25 degrees outside. yesterday morning: 18.

*

i spoke with my father on the phone last night. he says that i'm wrong. he goes to bed at 10 and wakes up at 4:30.

but, when i say i go to bed at 9... i mean... i go to bed. i fall asleep around 10. and wake up... between 4:30 and 6:30. i think a lot. last night i not-thought a lot. i mostly watched myself thinking. 

which means i need the two of me to become one.

do you follow this?

"But one day I noticed that what I was writing concerned him more and more and, though in an indirect manner, seemed to have no other purpose but to reflect him. I was extremely struck by this discovery. In it I saw what might paralyze me the most, not because I would henceforth try to avoid this reflection, but because, on the contrary, I might go to more trouble to make it manifest." from Blanchot's  the one who was standing apart from me

HERETICAL TEXTS 2009

i am in very good company....

i need to meet more people who have an awareness of time, but remain unhindered by time.

time is ruining my life. and my Love.

i had a lovely Sunday.

decided to move the 5-mile run to tomorrow. stayed home. did Sunday things. and xtrained, of course.

had dinner with the Plunketts, Tosts, and Plunkett-Tosts.

Tony cooked this amazing chili over a sweet potato and spinach w/ collard greens and peppers and garlic.

mmm...

and i even ate cherry pie with some vanilla ice cream!

yay for Sunday dinner!

i brought them these amazing Lilies.

and ate. and laughed. and talked marathon-talk.

like goo and gel and hammer snacks.

and Asics.

and races.

and flirted with a baby.

and came home.

and now... football? or, do i read the Gnostic Bible?

i've been wanting to find a Church.

it is true. i'm not kidding. i want to find an academic-philosophical-loving-Church.

suggestions?

yesterday i slept from 9pm to this morning, 9 am. i usually wake before 7:30 am. daily. racquetball is exhausting. i think i've mentioned this.

i'm starting a Lucipo racquetball revolution.

all the poets are gettin' sweaty and hitting balls.

jessica smith just sent me a text message stating that she wished i would twitter so she can know what i'm up to.

....

....

uh.

i think between my blog and my facebook status update.... 

uh.

...

between the work and the hurt... and the whiskey...

o. 

i don't drink. not really.

i think that was the only time i've been drunk this year.

o.

well. maybe a few times with my best friend whilst in a hotel room in a different state or two.

this form of communication is so one-sided.

out-of-state drunkenness doesn't count.

racquetball makes everything better.

my second time ever on the court.

and i hit myself in the face with my own racquet.

ahh....

depth perception must be an amazing thing.

hehe.

one hour of racquetball = 5 miles of running.

calorie-wise.

tomorrow is, in fact, 5 miles of running.

my glutes are killing me.

hello.

i am up at 3:30 am.

i am going to pick guillermo parra up and drive him to the airport.

surely this means i am a most excellent human being.

see what the South has done to me?

i'm drinking coffee.

my dogs want to go to the airport, too.

they love going to the airport.

o.

i am playing racquetball today at 2pm.

i wonder if it will hurt.

i better go pick that guillo up now.

night.

running and racquetball.

i think, aside from getting completely wasted with the gang last weekend, this was the most fun i've had for a long time. 

chris taught me how to play, and, showed me some of his smooth racquetball moves.

which, are dirty. just. dirty.

so fucking fun. 

and, a ton of running. 

since i see like a lizard [one eye for distance, one eye for close], it was a little tough for me to find the ball at times... with my racquet. seems i had no problem finding it with various parts of my body... at times.

i think my depth perception issue can be overcome. i mean. i live it all the time. but, i will have to get used to the space and the sounds and the length of the racquet... etc.

i have to say, in addition, that .... i would rather give racquetball its own night. running and then racquetball seriously kicked my ass. it felt good. real good. but, i'm sore. today. like i ran 9 miles sore. not like i ran 13 miles sore. but, 9.

*

running.

i figured out yesterday that my new knee issue is a direct result of my tight hamstring issue. i noticed that my left leg wasn't kicking out as far as my right... putting pressure on my knee... and causing my left foot to fall a little flat. 

[my knee felt like it was cramping up. can the knee cramp? i didn't think so. but. my left knee does, indeed, CRAMP]

when i forced myself to keep proper form, despite the bit of pain, my knee pain was alleviated.

so now. i know.

for whatever reason... i have to spend more time loosening my hamstrings before i work out. 

[jamie, my running partner, said 

a lot of football players with tight hamstrings ride the stationary bike for a while before they play so as to warm up their hamstrings]

[and, if you know me, you know that i LOVE football... and having to workout like a football player is .... yes. just. yes. okay. no problem.]

if i don't work diligently on this hamstring issue... i'm going to run myself out of running. which. is a horrible thing. nobody wants to see that.

*

writing.

well.

i'm still thinking.

but, i'll let you know what i'm thinking, soon. promise.

*

i'm taking my dogs to have their picture taken with Santa Claus tomorrow!

o, yes.

i'm very excited. 

i'm sure they are, too.

*

i have to stretch and go to work now.

looks like a 9-5 day for me.

how odd. [i'm usually 7-3 or 8-4].

cheers.

i like getting songs.

my hamstrings are always tight.

is it winter?

for anybody else who may have spent many years forgetting they had a body, tight hamstrings make running difficult. they shorten my stride. which then leads to my knee pain. and even some upper-back pain, because i get anxious.

the most surprisingly useful thing i learned... about 9 months in to running... was how to keep my entire body relaxed while running. for any length of time. i guess that isn't a "surprisingly useful thing." i mean that i didn't realize i was holding myself so tightly while i ran, and how much energy that tension consumed.

my runs are much better since then.

but, i must get back to my tight hamstrings. and then work. and then run. and then?

*

writing.

i seem to run better than i write. lately.

this always happens to me at the beginning of a NEW writing period. i spend more time thinking. not necessarily about writing, but, it turns out that i'm really always thinking about writing, i just pretend not to be. even to myself.

*

should i apply to PhD programs?

i just. don't want to be that poor again. eh.

hamstrings.

o.

and music.

i have a big smile on my face about music.

ah.

running felt so damn good. 

my muscles are so happy and my heart feels better.

i bought glucosamine, finally... it really works. really.

something else that made me happy today-- Jane's Addiction on the radio. 

Jane Says...

of course.

and then, on my way home from running, Motley Crue was on the radio. 

and i turned it up.

ha.

i got tired of my Hip-Hop... Lil' Wayne [aka the ani difranco of hip-hop] is good, but damn.... he needs to sit a few songs out so we can miss his ass.

*

when i was running today i was thinking: i need to stop reading the Charterhouse of Parma. i mean, i practically have, right? i loved the Red and the Black, but, this... maybe i'm not in the mood, but it seems to have 20 opening paragraphs so far and it is completely irritating me.

when i was running i was also thinking that i was thinking: i should read Sterne. or go back to Dreiser. i have An American Tragedy on my desk... just waiting. 

or shall i read poetry?

*

the only news i watch is on ESPN. for months now. is that odd? my tv, if on, is almost always on ESPN.

my most-visited

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