i just got back from vacation with holly's family. we went up to a wonderful lake near hayward, wisconsin, something like 1 1/2 hours from lake superior, and fished for a week. i, who am obsessed with the north, found this opportunity to go further north delightful. and it was not disappointing. but after a while i started to feel a little claustrophobic because i didn't have my own car, boat, cabin, or room. i'm secretly a very solitary individual. i went so far in college as to not allow anyone to enter my dorm room for two semesters. so it was a good thing that it ended when it did because i was starting to feel very crampy after 7 nights in close-quarters with people i could not get away from.
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my internal compass points to water and cold. i don't know why. but the most beautiful things i can remember seeing are (1) the Pacific coast along Oregon, which was icy cold and covered in fog, and (2) one night when i was little when we were being so helplessly buried in snow that it was clear no one would be going anywhere anytime soon (digging oneself out of one's home, buried in snow, is delightful, especially if you have a fireplace). some images of woods in fall, and one week when it was so cold outside that schools and businesses closed, are close runners up. so is the idea of seeing the redwoods.
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writing (and, i believe, all art) is the translation of experience (broadly defined) from one form into another. in order to write you first have to understand how you understand. then you have to decide how to translate what you understand and what to translate it into. but you must also be aware that whatever you have translated you have done only for yourself, and if anyone else seems to connect with it, it is very lucky. for this reason everything i have ever written has been something i've wanted very badly to read.
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on mattresses
blankets
wait
with
pillows
feather
weight
in
the
sun's
gait
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2 comments:
if you have ever gotten around to reading my post on translation(?), have you wondered to yourself if it had any of the slightest influence from me having read your bit here? I confess, I ask because I suddenly felt a bit as though I was in a Johnny Depp movie and curious who wrote which first... mostly because I would have taken it as a great compliment if I directly inspired a post worthy thought in you. But as I find it, you have written first and I thus sit appreciating the sort of ironic showing of the truth of each of our independent, related remarks.
well I don't know how to contact you other than leaving a comment here, so here you are.
It took me a moment to ponder your request while I had to consider both my utmost confidence in your ability to put together a groomsman gift that I would enjoy and the possible need of having to shave and cut my hair when the time comes... I've figured we'll cross that bridge when we come to it though.
btw, I appreciated the part where you said "i'm secretly a very solitary individual. i went so far in college as to not allow anyone to enter my dorm room for two semesters." So who was this a secret to again? not meant to be humorous?
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