I fear I will soon be facing a content problem with this blog. I am running out of material to post. I recycled much from my old blog, I’ve posted several years of journal entries, and two almost-complete books. I really should have parceled out “Withholding” in smaller doses–it would’ve lasted longer and probably been less of a burden on my readers–not that I have all that many, according to my site stats.
What I have left are seven months of journal entries, and my largely unpopular Paris book. After that, I may have to go back to posting abstract photos.
I have something of a love/hate relationship to the books I’ve written. Sometimes I’ll look one of them over and find it amusing and clever, bordering even on the erudite. Then I’ll finish reading some truly great book, and feel I am even less than an amateur. Yes, my work is often pessimistic, cynical, misanthropic, bitter, angry, vulgar, and profane. But also I think I too often sound naive, childish, wide-eyed, clueless, unsophisticated, provincial, and cloyingly sentimental.
Of course, some of this is due to the unsophisticated society in which I live, and the rather plodding, incurious people who have always surrounded me. I live in a place where people would rather kill a deer or go to a high school football game than look in on an art exhibition or attend a foreign film. I’ve always felt out of place in this culture, or, as the most perceptive of my therapists once pegged me, “a stranger in a strange land.”
I try to fill up my mind with only the finest of intellectual nutriments, but even these influences have failed to bring my work up to the level I desire. It doesn’t help that poverty and madness have caused my world to shrink, and my journal entries are devoid of all adventure, and include only monotonous lists of my daily routines, films watched, and books read, as well as the fears both trivial and substantial that seem to me so enormous, and the petty and often imaginary feuds and squabbles that I’ve turned into Miltonian conflicts between the forces of good and evil.