Maybe I am torturing myself, listening to this Blonde Redhead album … the only thing I listened to in Portland as I wandered the streets in pure unbridled bliss. The looming threats of thunderstorms this weekend will prove nice for all the reading I plan to do … still on that Chuck Palahniuk kick, reading Diary now. I am also rereading How Proust Can Change Your Life. And, again, Joseph Conrad’s “The Return.”

I do look forward to what I can these days … my readings and the hope they are well-attended and books are sold. Going back to Portland … feeling that multi-leveled bliss yet again.

I hope also to calm the arguing voices of my aunt and Anhedonia who have been invading my thoughts and dreams … hearing them in odd day moments in the deep recesses of my mind. I can only calm them as I have calmed the other times like these, however rare they are … by writing poems. I have been journaling about these moments but find they do not go away with prose, only poetry — the deep, efficient imagery and emotion of poetry. My other moment like this was a few years ago when a sea creature hovered above my bed and I ended up staying up all night in the seeming safety of every light turned on in the house. That is also when the nightmares of sea creatures began. So I named her after the mythological creature, the creature I believe she may have been — Scylla (Scilla).

But now … visited by people. Somehow this is more disruptive, disturbing. I guess it’s because they have the capacity to love, hate, and their arguments often sounding so unforgiving. It is often a resemblance to my life … highlighting my weaknesses and challenging my tiny nub of strengths. Geez Louise … I feel like Harvey Pekar and his voices arguing in American Splendor.

Happy Thunderstorms …