Fu*k dramatic tension—I like watching a kid pick daisies

I’d like to understand my reactions to my work a little better. Ah, well. Maybe I will, one day. Who knows what or why I write—I write because I like to write. I have to write. I write because it seems like an important thing for me to do. It seems sometimes like the most important thing I do—and not just in the sense of having /leaving a legacy—that’s an ego thing.

I guess I feel like I’m learning about reality, what’s real—it sounds banal to say it, but I like—more than that—I feel valuable when I’m (as I said earlier) on my quest, my quest for understanding.

And sure, I can step back and say that it’s good some people want to be engineers. I want there to be products. I need to use some things that are designed and made by those with designing and making [skills and/or interests].

The world’s a bigger place than I imagine. Watching Japanese news last night reminded me of that just a little. Maybe one country’s news presents the whole world through its own bias/model—so to watch NHK news was to see news from a different model. Yes, we saw some stories we hadn’t seen in U.S. news—a Osprey aircraft having crashed off Okinawa, unnerving Japanese residents there, Japanese lithium-ion batteries being sent to International Space Station, and a statue of a “comfort woman” in South Korea put in front of a Japanese embassy there (I think was the story), straining relations between South Korea and Japan.

I don’t know. I don’t know why people would go through with the making of such banal movies as “Standing Still”—one review said that there was all the dramatic tension of a kid picking daisies. And I read that and I think that my writings don’t have dramatic tension, either—and then I think, so what? Fu*k dramatic tension—I like watching a kid pick daisies. Anyway, I should probably go nap now (at 1:27) — I’m getting sleepy.

And also, of course, I don’t need to defend or even define my own writings. I don’t have to get others interested in them the same way I’m interested in them—nobody will feel the same about your own writings as you will! So there.

Sat. Evening: I’m now not so sure why I spent so much time this morning talking about why I liked my journals, and whether others would get from them what I do. I could just, you know, stay focused on now—

[From journal of Sat., 7 Jan. 2017, Journal 244, page 118-20]

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