Still cleaning things out, emptying closets. Unearthing a lot of Old Stuff int he process. I’ve never been good at keeping journals or diaries, but I’ve tried from time to time. Occasionally, when I go through one of these housecleaning fits, I find them, sad fragments, disconnected sometimes by years, even decades, a few weeks, maybe a couple of months consecutively recorded, and now…
I’m finding things from before Clarion, before 1988, when I was still trying on my own to break into writing—into publishing, I should say. Spiral notebooks filled with cryptic notes, phone numbers, names now forgotten, and story fragments, as well as the personal expression of profound frustration. …