June 23, 2004

8:28 p.m.

Where's That Steamboat When You Need It?

I think my entries have gotten boring. I don�t feel the urgency that drove me last Fall and Winter to spill my secrets into this private little box. Here I just bought about a million more banners, and what am I directing people to? Summer reruns � repeating emotions and situations, like holding down the nnnnnnnnn key. I wonder if I�m learning anything lately from writing my little saga. And when did it become more important to develop a readership than to simply produce a good entry?

Well, I don�t know. Maybe it�s that stage of relationship where things get a little complacent. I never have been good at getting past that. Is there a deeper love here, in my diary, than what I�ve felt up til now? Can we get the thrill back, D, you and I? Now that you know me pretty well, and I you. You�re a quiet type, but you let me talk. I�ve appreciated that. In fact, it�s why I came here, to examine �committed language,� where the heart and the mind are of one accord before the voice speaks. It�s helped me practice some of that, but there�s never a point where it�s just attained and maintained. Like sitting in meditation. It�s continually about redirecting the attention to the breath. Likewise I have to be always renewing my commitment to speaking truth, every time I open my mouth, lest I sneak in and cover it up with something which seems more pleasant or will make me less vulnerable.

Meanwhile, though, the everyday as noted here has become quite redundant. I am bored with morosity, disinterested in happy chatter. I still feel these things. But I�m looking for an infusion of newness. How many perfect bike rides can I write about, really? And while movement on the Will front is so slow, why repeatedly gush and moon over him? Oh, I�m happy; oh, I�m disgusted. I�d rather report that something happened.

So I guess I�ll wait until something does.