Tonight, at the altar we sing to the gods. We chant and sing
and shake the keys and the implements, light the candles, burn the incense,
wait for them to come. Call the other spirits,the spirits we are remembering,
the dead, the lost, the despairing, call up the saints and the boddhisatvas,
call up openness and the remembrance of pleasure, the remembrance of hope, the
remembrance of people just trying to do a little bit in this world.
I want to share myself with someone. I get out of the shower
and dry myself with the window open and the light on, the curtains up, because it
is hot as hell and my apartment is largely hidden, but also because I feel so
in need of sharing myself sexually. I will log on one more time. I want to be
under Alan, connect with another. I may end up giving myself to myself. I
cannot keep this desire in much longer.
I almost
gave up writing last night. Every once in a while, when I see people who are
doing so much better than me, paid so much more attention to me and no one is
reading me or needing me and my world only seems to serve me, there is a part
of me that says, why write, leave this alone, why don’t you disappear. Your
writing is not very good or very necessary, leave it alone. If I write more in
this journal tonight it will be in response to this.
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