here is something from my diary, june 10, 1985 (i was eight):
i feal very sorry for the poor people in africa. they are getting food and drinks i hope. there are people dieing. i'm trying to help them but i keep forgetting to. so will other people help them. like you plese. we are the world we are the children.
i guess i didn't understand that a diary was a sort of private space. hm.
and then there is this very descriptive entry, 10-17-86:
it is friday morning. we halft to take our test and go back to reading. i have 51 posters of kirk. tgif. thank god it's friday. kirk is so cute i love him. i still like miles. he is ok. last night i had a realy weird dream it was so neat though.
in ws, we did speed-dating with wcw:
write the red wheelbarrow in another season, break the prose, change prose to poetry, animate a thing/destroy it, misread williams, etc.
i think this is the best that came from it:
the improvisations coming at
a time when i
to remain firm
at great cost i
to the expedient of letting
order to live in the world
of my choice
i will leave you with this quote from jan:
"you sly old boots, you never mentioned it."