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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 2 of 2. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by lydia on January 16, 2005, at 12:59:00
sometimes they are different.
And it's not all confessional. Great literature makes me cum. I would like to write songs.
Here I sit, still all alone, but God Jesus I'm smiling.. When the writing is done, tweaked with and clear , fueled with ME emotions, when I read it I feel warm, the way I feel after sex. How I feel when the rush of a few vicodin hits me, or when a song moves me to tears.
Like how I feel when I read something so beautiful I gasp, press my thumbs deep into the page of the book and reread the sentence, the paragraph,
sit there smiling, ruminating.
Writing is a complete emotional experience. There isn't always a climax, in fact, usually not. But writing is necessary.
Festering regret can be quelled through expression.
Sometimes the ink is swirled together with tears.
Sometimes I scream, I rock on my knees , pen in hand , thoughts mad and fighting, words begging for release, too fast and too hard, all so sure, but suuuch contradictions. ..
I piece together, scribble out and underline, I try I try I try to attain coherence, something my tongue can't produce.
Far-flung thoughts, hard-edged memories and bloody regrets , written, they are tangible. Not something that can cripple with fear,
Because I ammm afraid of the dark. Straining to see, but I can't -there are strange noises, something waxy and indefinable at my fingertips , and an itchy unease in my belly. I start to cry. Then I start writing.
Posted by zeugma on January 16, 2005, at 14:24:18
In reply to i'm not after beauty, i'm after perfection., posted by lydia on January 16, 2005, at 12:59:00
I feel dysphoric and strung-out after writing. I actively hate the feeling.
Reading literature? well, it's a painful experience too. It takes effort to track ideas
and I like poetry because of its blank spaces, signifying all the words that weren't necessary.
I've written a lot and I feel strung-out. Like Ixion dizzy on his wheel.
The perfect book
is the one with holes in it, spaces we can slip through from the tyranny of endless motion.
This is the end of the thread.
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