What is my purpose in writing? To find some sort of confirmation, some sign of validity? To offer up my mind and heart and their processes in their pure form, in hopes someone understands? Understanding? To open myself up to a glob of faceless people who take everything as insubstantial fiction, when i find it impossible to open up to an individual? What do these individuals want from me? I was once told i don't need to be afraid of this person, and i could open up to them. I didn't feel closed. Am i afraid to open up to myself? Am i really that shallow on the inside? Some writers complain about seeing all these "dead" people. Unfeeling dead, etc.. Am i "dead", as they speak of the "dead"? I don't, however, feel like part of Genesis P'Orridge's 'world of sleeping people.' There are things i have lost a lot of hope in, this is true. I am often perceived as apathetic. Apathetic. I am afraid to display i care. I am sometimes afraid to care. Why do i write? Why did Proust write? Who. really was he writing for anyway? Proust on a roost, eyeing the world around him. I do a lot of observing you know. Life, at times, is a spectator sport for me. I rarely play. I am my own god, and my god has taken a break. I am my own coach, and my coach has forgotten i'm on the bench. When i was in school i was always one of the last ones picked. So when it was my turn to pick my own team, i started by picking those who were normally chosen last. Our team lost miserably, and our team was unified in being angry at me for choosing all of them. What do i wish to accomplish with my writing? I've always been intriqued by the idea of saying one thing and meaning another. Between the lines, and pointed to symbols and metaphors, stories later used as parables or references. Who was Aesop anyway? Shakespeare said "nothing," o but he meant something. I want to be published and read. I've often told people that i'm afraid i think i'm a genius. I am not, but i have potential. Elvis Costello is a genius. I want to write novels, and novelettes. Tell sweeping stories. Tale to hold the attention and curiousity, with a meaning under the surface to draw attention back again. James Joyce was a genius. Andy Warhol was a genius, but an idiot at the same time. He went from A to B and Back Again. He wrote a book called 'A', Stephen Daedalus's first proposed book title. A plan. One day my readers can go, "wow, look at what he's done here, I'd never noticed that." Burroughs had a genius, but he burned it at both ends when he wrote 'Naked Lunch'.
