I write in my books. I read and I get ideas and then I write in the inside covers. If I run out of space I'll go to the overleaf. I try to number the order in which I write the bits, but sometimes I don't. Sometimes I can't read my own handwriting. I try not to edit as I type - I'll do that later if I use this bit for anything.
This comes from the inside covers of my copy of "The Book of Daniel" by E.L. Doctorow. I don't know when I read this. 20 years ago? More? Who knows. It is being sold to the book store, so people will get my anonymous scrawlings as a bonus prize, or bonus headache. You be the judge.
You are as afraid of what life holds for you in the future as you are of death. It is a series of un-namable perils to be avoided, rather than love, learning and some pain which may accompany the pleasure of experience.
Our life together began with me as the adulterous, the untrue, the untrustworthy. You have braced yourself for the worst under this thesis and go about collecting evidence, proof of the thesis with every late night out or conversation with a side-burned boy. "See! I'm right!", you can say. You can take comfort in the confirmation a kind of security in the fact that you may be right. At least no one can call you a fool should the disaster take place.
I am tired of proving you wrong. I am tired of proving myself worthy. Every day I must disprove this thesis of our relationship. I wondered on day what would happen if I said you were right. Would you feel vindicated? Would you finally be happy?
"I am right! I knew it all along! Finally, the truth at last. I knew I was really never getting the truth - the whole story. I knew she was hiding something!"
Would that make you feel good? I know it wouldn't. Why cling to it then? You may take some comfort in knowing you have put up a barrier to prevent more harm to you - more betrayal, more abandonment. This barrier hurts, too, and most of all, it hurts me. I never hurt you.
Love for you, I think, is by definition unity - a show of solidarity. Unless I am with you in that fortress with a moat and gun turrets keeping out the world's evils, then I must not love you because I am not on your side of the wall. The world is too much with us. This is not a bad thing, you know. It is a part of life and to cut yourself off from it is merely to wait for death.
I, too, have become accustomed to the ritual, however wrong. It has become a reflex. "Why do you have this? How do you know this? Why did you do this?", as if somehow some aspect of my life has escaped your watchful eye. If you did not know of it, there must have been some lapse in security or break in the ranks. I immediately launch into a detailed defense, done wrongly, as I guess at what particulars will satisfy the who, what, when, where and why. I cannot just BE, or do something "just because" or that it amuses me or makes me feel good. Reason not the need. I have to search for a reason, and when there is none or my reason is flimsy by your standards, I am untrue. I am defensive so I seem guilty. I am on the other side with everyone else in the world.
Reason not the need, indeed. Must I prove myself every day? I am tired of it. You need not. I never asked for evidence or explanations. I have only asked for you. Listen not to your fears. Listen to me. In all this time, you have not. I live in the world of the experiential where one joy dissolves a hundred cares. You are welcome to join me.
This comes from the inside covers of my copy of "The Book of Daniel" by E.L. Doctorow. I don't know when I read this. 20 years ago? More? Who knows. It is being sold to the book store, so people will get my anonymous scrawlings as a bonus prize, or bonus headache. You be the judge.
You are as afraid of what life holds for you in the future as you are of death. It is a series of un-namable perils to be avoided, rather than love, learning and some pain which may accompany the pleasure of experience.
Our life together began with me as the adulterous, the untrue, the untrustworthy. You have braced yourself for the worst under this thesis and go about collecting evidence, proof of the thesis with every late night out or conversation with a side-burned boy. "See! I'm right!", you can say. You can take comfort in the confirmation a kind of security in the fact that you may be right. At least no one can call you a fool should the disaster take place.
I am tired of proving you wrong. I am tired of proving myself worthy. Every day I must disprove this thesis of our relationship. I wondered on day what would happen if I said you were right. Would you feel vindicated? Would you finally be happy?
"I am right! I knew it all along! Finally, the truth at last. I knew I was really never getting the truth - the whole story. I knew she was hiding something!"
Would that make you feel good? I know it wouldn't. Why cling to it then? You may take some comfort in knowing you have put up a barrier to prevent more harm to you - more betrayal, more abandonment. This barrier hurts, too, and most of all, it hurts me. I never hurt you.
Love for you, I think, is by definition unity - a show of solidarity. Unless I am with you in that fortress with a moat and gun turrets keeping out the world's evils, then I must not love you because I am not on your side of the wall. The world is too much with us. This is not a bad thing, you know. It is a part of life and to cut yourself off from it is merely to wait for death.
I, too, have become accustomed to the ritual, however wrong. It has become a reflex. "Why do you have this? How do you know this? Why did you do this?", as if somehow some aspect of my life has escaped your watchful eye. If you did not know of it, there must have been some lapse in security or break in the ranks. I immediately launch into a detailed defense, done wrongly, as I guess at what particulars will satisfy the who, what, when, where and why. I cannot just BE, or do something "just because" or that it amuses me or makes me feel good. Reason not the need. I have to search for a reason, and when there is none or my reason is flimsy by your standards, I am untrue. I am defensive so I seem guilty. I am on the other side with everyone else in the world.
Reason not the need, indeed. Must I prove myself every day? I am tired of it. You need not. I never asked for evidence or explanations. I have only asked for you. Listen not to your fears. Listen to me. In all this time, you have not. I live in the world of the experiential where one joy dissolves a hundred cares. You are welcome to join me.
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