I spent last night reading a whole bunch of stuff written by this cracker jack, yes I refer to yours truly. Looking back on what I’ve written is a past time of mine that I enjoy once or twice a year. It allows me to reflect on where I was and where I am and what in Hell’s name happened in between. Two major thoughts became very prevalent in the undirected wanderings of my self absorbed verbage. First, everything about Veronica was either love or hate and nothing in between. It seems we teatered on seperation the entire time we were together. In light of that thought, I felt good about where I was. Second, I’ve been thinking the same things for a long time. I only had access to two of my most recent notebooks and would have liked to compare them to older thoughts in the books of Lukas. Unfortunately, they are in SG and I am not.

I’ve been reading Pablo Neruda’s (my favorite poet) autobiography. I think, mostly out of a deep respect and desire to emulate, but I see a lot of things that he wrote that are the same types of things that I have written about. Of course, his are on a level I would never assume to reach any time in this life. I’ve often wondered about why certain people write while others paint and so forth. I am yet to reach any kind of concrete observation, but out of my own experience, I feel I am compelled. I don’t always write and if I try to force myself to do so, it never comes out the way I would prefer. Many times I have written things that I have never thought and that have become part of my belief system. It’s the muses I suppose.

One thing that has always been a constant in my writing is the eternal need to define myself. The most accurate of these descriptions are always contradictions that impose a sense of opposing forces that make up my composition. I think such things are because of the conglomerative make up of our souls. Things that are seeming contradictions can and are many times juxtaposed within us. How else can we explain human behaviour?

What does all this babel mean? Nothing, it comes down to nothing and it’s inexplicable depth.