the careless writer

i suppose i ought to finish coastergirl. it's a careless writer who lets things lie half-told. i'm that kind. there are two types of writers amoung those that understand the importance of not caring. those that are careless, and those that are carefree. henry miller was careless, jeanette winterson is carefree. both astonishingly good but distinct, separate.

i'm the careless, i don't give a good goddamn and just know it'll happen. carefree gives a damn but knows it'll happen. happen on the page, i mean. so the carefree ones can sit and lounge for the moon of words to gel and fall into him.

i'm disquiet. at constant word-disease, i know it's coming , estranged horseman of my own little apocolypse, and the words, all the wrods (weopens) they belong to me. that is clear, but who pays attention to such trivials? good god, it's a beautiful morning.

2003-06-17 | 6:15 p.m.
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