Feb. 23rd, 2009

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 It's very strange, reading old entries and old drafts of emails.  The voice on the screen is so different from the voice that's now living in my head.  The old voice was braver and stupider, and had a weaker grasp of sentence architecture.  God knows what I'll think of this entry two years from now.  

I need to journal here more.  With graduation approaching, I feel like I'll wake up soon with no proof that my life has ever happened.  And there are some things, like the sound of the piano drifting upstairs, or the way the snow freezes to ice like bread goes stale, or all the crap that falls down into the brown carpet of my bedroom to never be seen again--that stuff needs documenting.

I'm reading Wallace Steven's Harmonium.  In the midst of all the crazy vocabulary going on is this:

Twenty men crossing a bridge,
Into a village,
Are twenty men crossing twenty bridges,
Into twenty villages,
Or one man
Crossing a single bridge into a village.

Of course, a sentence in another poem goes something like, "A man so used to plumb the multifarious heavens felt no awe before these visible, voluble delugings, which yet found means to set his simmering mind spinning and hissing with oracular notations of the wild, the ruinous waste, until the steeples of his city clanked and sprang in an unburgherly apocalypse."

So his restraint in the former impresses me.

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July 2010

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