June 28th, 2006


Good Morning/Bad Prose

I am exhausted; my flesh is fast disappearing and my bones are tender sticks. Exhaustion:  yes, but not a dry exhaustion, not the exhaustion of the desert. What I know is a warm exhaustion, a fluid and embracing exhaustion - an exhaustion that steals my strength yet allows me even pleasure in the faint comforts of my weakness. It is the exhaustion one feels when first awake and too tired to know anything but the embrace of the bed. This first awoken exhaustion has stayed with me; I carry it about me, as if there is somehow a bed below and behind me that I can just…maybefall back on


One does not find peace in justice, but peace is impossible without it. One does not find freedom in simplicity, but one cannot be free apart from it. One does not find direction in knowledge, but one's journey demands it. One does not find hope in other persons, but there is certainly no hope alone. Seek first the Kingdom, and all these things will be added.

The Waiting is Cruel

I would like to think that having been plagued by incessant reading, I would develop into a incessant writer.  At times I feel that this gift, this seed of letters is somewhere deep inside me, just waiting for sunlight and rain to let it birth.  Ah, but the waiting is cruel!