After hours of furious concentration, I have finally done what I feared possible, I have reached a doorway to a place that does not exist in any sense. What I mean to say is that there is no existence there, none at all. There is no life, no non-life, no sight or sense, no sending nor receiving of any information to the smallest degree. And I cower now, thinking that if I perhaps fall in or slip away, there will be no return. In fact, it would seem that this very doorway would no longer present itself to me.
The Conversation
"Was I suggesting something?"
"Yes, it was clear."
"What was it?"
"I really couldn't say."
"You weren't paying attention."
"No."
Bitch.
I'm back now, it was an odd exclusion but my toughest of cowards came to the head and spoke.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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