We Were Wanderers (diary)
Added 2018-09-03 23:21:35 +0000 UTCI am on a boat heading up the Rio Preguiça thinking about too many things. Am I always thinking about too many things? Probably.
I have been reading Jim Harrington lately, and since I first heard his voice on an episode of Parts Unknown his words have echoed with me. "And to you my loves few as there have been. Let us pretend it could not have been any other way."
My work is shapes. My work is journey, love, pain, the loneliness we carry with us to the land. We try to leave it behind in footprints, sweat, blood and take home the joy. New booze, new fruits I write as sensory crossing. Wonder if we are doomed to be misinterpreted. Doomed to become old poets.
I love Jim Harrington the way he bends a word to time, reflection, to water. But I hate Jim Harrington. Must all old men write about their shits? Must all old men objectify young women? Neither is shocking, but neither is interesting. I am young still, but I hope to be different.
I hope that when the wind blows off the dunes that the sand and sound is shaping us like the lakes we stand by. May the shape of our journey and our poet hearts not regress.
