No escape from your thoughts
I think too much, always have. Think about the thoughts, wonder where they come from. Then I think about thinking about the thoughts and what I did to deserve them. Nothing. Everything. I think too much.
It’s dangerous territory, I know. Maybe I’m going mad. Everybody’s mad in some form or other. It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself after a few knocks and I need to snap out of it.
It’s the last day of summer. For the first time I’ve brought my laptop to a café and I’m sitting writing in the sun. Beckett used to sit in cafés, I think. I’ve decided to write a book. Not right away but sometime, some day in the future when I’m good enough.
For I’m not good enough yet. One good thing I can say about that love story is that it made me want to be a better person. I signed up for a German grammar course at the VHS, faced up to certain weaknesses, sought improvement.
There’s no bitterness or anger, just a parasitic sadness immune to rational thought. Some things just cannot be explained and so it is with love. It’s hard to believe it can be destroyed so quickly, in one week or less. She wrote to me Monday to say she’d fallen in love with someone. Ja, I replied, I thought it was me. I wished her good luck and hoped that she’d find happiness and keep it. Then I spelled Tschüss wrong. Fuck it, nothing’s perfect, it fits.
I started reading the Murakami book she recommended to me yesterday. It’s great. I’ll always be grateful to her for that. She introduced me to good music too and shamed me into giving blood. I’ll get a donor card. They’ll throw away the liver but they can use the rest. It’s not all bad. It’s so easy to laugh, it’s so easy to hate, it takes guts to be gentle and kind…
Writing helps, words, forcing thoughts to work for their keep. Fuck you thoughts! Where are you running to now?
I’ll write, I’ll learn, I’ll love (the young fella saved me Monday), I’ll run. The marathon’s in just over a week. I screwed up my knee last Friday but I’m running anyway. I’m lucky I have two. Many of the people I’m running for don’t have any. Donations have dried up but hopefully they’ll pick up again when people see me running with a broken heart and banjaxed knee.
There’s no escape from your thoughts. You can only replace them with other thoughts. In the silence you don’t know. You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on.