since I said anything here that mixed insight with that most controversial and frightening of qualities, honesty.
I’m not even sure I know how to be really open and honest anymore, with myself or with the world.
I feel like I’ve lost myself.
In my life right now I sorely need one of:
-More contact with fellow academics
-More contact with an amenities-free, undeveloped outdoors distant from civilization
I still don’t know whether trust is ever a great idea.
I am still beholden in ways that I very much regret to fears rather than triumphs, to prudence rather than to vitality.
All life ends soon.
I miss things. Some things that I’ve never even had. By god, I miss the beach, but not the Pacific beach—the Atlantic beach. I miss my imaginary beach house, miss the clean, crisp, salty air and the tufts of wild grass that grow at the boundary between sand and soil and the partially collapsed wooden fence segments strewn about here and there.
I miss the morning and the evening, which have now for me become indistinct, and I miss wild red sunsets and little streams running down mountain canyons.
I miss long, winding roads and early mornings screaming at the top of my lungs in concert with my car CD player.
I miss opportunity. I miss opportunity, variation, difference, hope, the sense that all of life is there for the taking, that nobody is waiting to see me fail and then blame me or ridicule me for it.
I miss total obscurity.
I miss total companionship.
I miss youth.
I . MISS . EVERY . THING . BUT . THIS . MOMENT .
Every time I lose sight of myself, I lose my discipline.
Every time I compromise myself, I compromise my discipline.
I am getting old enough now that this much has become clear to me.