Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Tuesday July 11, 2006 - Year 4, Day 112 - my type
8C/46F, sunny, light breeze; Gusta introduced herself to a Kildeer by the lagoon but soon learned they will never be close; Google search describes a Kildeer as 'noisy bird and restless'; frenetic with the attention span of a rabbit perhaps
I met with LS yesterday, very nice - always great to meet a muser; ones ½ my age should not be my type; what would Svengali do?
I had fun/was flattered as I am every time it happens when someone comes out of the blue to meet me, to praise my writing, to discuss their lives with me - the perfect stranger [OK, not perfect!]; not unexpectedly there are some things we have in common that perhaps explain striking a chord; thanks too for format feedback [I'm changing my type] - I've been pondering it for a while so have a look at the comments section today, hopefully an easier read now
is it true for me, is it true for writers, or only true for her? I was listening to a Margaret –gagme- Atwood interview on CBC the other night; she spoke of ‘writers writing about what they fear’
I recognize this successful & widely accomplished writer spills words on paper with the best; she may have something there, but I am torn; do I resist the notion because I disagree or just because I cannot abide her
where my mind goes, actions follow; more than thinking about my desires, directions, objectives – I know it is the elements I have really internalized that govern my behaviour, govern my reaction to things & people
the ‘I wish that was how I feel’ stuff is more like mind candy, not real enough to be settled in the belly, not settled enough to be part of who I am
conclusions du jour: things are not as I wish they were, they are the way I choose to see them; my life is full because I choose to make it full, keep it full & I cultivate connections with people who help me keep it interesting & vital; Margaret Atwood is not my type
my type - the words on the page, the people I call friend, the people who matter to me, the people I enjoy most - each have a common thread making them 'my type'
being prepared to open up, to be real, to stand tall to say ‘this is who I am’ without concern for anything or anyone – it is the real-ness that explains it best; I look around my life at the people I embrace, who embrace me – the people who tweak my brain, or I tweak theirs, the ones who turn me on in any number of ways – they all have this common thread
real, really really real
my type
Mark
I met with LS yesterday, very nice - always great to meet a muser; ones ½ my age should not be my type; what would Svengali do?
I had fun/was flattered as I am every time it happens when someone comes out of the blue to meet me, to praise my writing, to discuss their lives with me - the perfect stranger [OK, not perfect!]; not unexpectedly there are some things we have in common that perhaps explain striking a chord; thanks too for format feedback [I'm changing my type] - I've been pondering it for a while so have a look at the comments section today, hopefully an easier read now
is it true for me, is it true for writers, or only true for her? I was listening to a Margaret –gagme- Atwood interview on CBC the other night; she spoke of ‘writers writing about what they fear’
I recognize this successful & widely accomplished writer spills words on paper with the best; she may have something there, but I am torn; do I resist the notion because I disagree or just because I cannot abide her
where my mind goes, actions follow; more than thinking about my desires, directions, objectives – I know it is the elements I have really internalized that govern my behaviour, govern my reaction to things & people
the ‘I wish that was how I feel’ stuff is more like mind candy, not real enough to be settled in the belly, not settled enough to be part of who I am
conclusions du jour: things are not as I wish they were, they are the way I choose to see them; my life is full because I choose to make it full, keep it full & I cultivate connections with people who help me keep it interesting & vital; Margaret Atwood is not my type
my type - the words on the page, the people I call friend, the people who matter to me, the people I enjoy most - each have a common thread making them 'my type'
being prepared to open up, to be real, to stand tall to say ‘this is who I am’ without concern for anything or anyone – it is the real-ness that explains it best; I look around my life at the people I embrace, who embrace me – the people who tweak my brain, or I tweak theirs, the ones who turn me on in any number of ways – they all have this common thread
real, really really real
my type
Mark
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