there are often times when i find beauty to be difficult, just because of how easy it can be for everything to be ugly. and as you can imagine, sometimes i find ugliness to be impossible due to an overwhelming amount of beauty.
Hello!
i have not been writing for a while. well, that's not true. i have been writing and trying very successfully (more or less) to forget every little line i've come up with in the past few months. (like our entire existence) every essay i try to write seems to lack a clear beginning. there is only a distant, vague sense of an impending end (because one cannot write forever, or live that long).
and so i find myself unable to produce something that even i won't later dismiss as utterly confusing to dearly readers. i sometimes start at the end, plant multiple beginnings in the middle of endings, and chase tangents upon tangents. (artistically, not theoretically. because lines don't have tangents, and tangents themselves are lines).
i don't mind being misunderstood. in fact, the day i am understood completely (by my entire audience, me included)is the day i lay down the pen. what i want is an artistic identity. to explain that, i present a poem's beginning in the middle of this letter (because i have decided this is a letter):
to what, what as?
i want to write to something,
as something.
to the ocean, perhaps
as fish,
or as the man who's desperately out of breath.
to you, certainly
as you,
or as the echo of your being in my soul.
and maybe i write to myself,
as me,
or as the darkness in the shadow cast by your light.
perhaps i write to humanity,
as god,
or as nothing at all.
i suppose i should leave the interpretation to the reader, and fight against the urge to over-represent myself. perhaps i will let myself be influenced by dostoevsky, or marechera. i will let my reluctance to be influenced by greene influence me. i will be brave enough to be a coward, good enough to deserve hell, and evil enough to always be in heaven. are any of these choices mine?
there's so much to write about and to interpret, and i may be biased at times, because (and now i am repeating the beginning of this letter as the end) there are often times when i find beauty to be difficult, just because of how easy it can be for everything to be ugly. and as you can imagine, sometimes i find ugliness to be impossible due to an overwhelming amount of beauty.