I am not afraid of dead people, for I believe in the total annihilation of every being that disappears from the face of this earth. I am not afraid of ghosts, nor do I believe in the supernatural. I am not afraid of any danger if a man were to come into the room, I should kill him without trembling. I wish to be able to awaken somebody by my side, so that I may be able to ask some sudden question, a stupid question even, if I feel inclined, so that I may hear a human voice, and feel that there is some waking soul close to me, some one whose reason is at work so that when I hastily light the candle I may see some human face by my side-because-because -I am ashamed to confess it-because I am afraid of being alone. I want to feel that there is some one close to me, touching me, a being who can speak and say something, no matter what it be.
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I do not want to be alone any longer at night.
#I close my eyes only for a moment then the moment's gone how to#
I don't know how to tell you or to make you understand me, but my state of mind is so wretched that you will pity me and despise me. I hardly like to tell you the strange and seemingly improbable reason that urged me on to this senseless act the fact, however, is that I am afraid of being alone. "Well," you will say to me, "what on earth did you get married for?" Lajolle is a very nice girl," and tomorrow they will say: "What a very nice woman Madame Raymon is." She belongs, in a word, to that immense number of girls whom one is glad to have for one's wife, till the moment comes when one discovers that one happens to prefer all other women to that particular woman whom one has married.
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She is a girl such as you may find by the gross, well adapted for matrimony, without any apparent faults, and with no particularly striking qualities. She is not rich, and belongs to the middle classes. She is small, fair, and stout so, of course, the day after to-morrow I shall ardently wish for a tall, dark, thin woman. I know that there is nothing unpleasing about her, and that is enough for my purpose. I may add that I know very little of the girl who is going to become my wife to-morrow I have only seen her four or five times. Yes, I am going to be married, and will tell you what has led me to take that step. You think I am losing my mind? Perhaps I am, but for other reasons than those you imagine, my dear friend. You say you cannot possibly understand it, and I believe you. Uncle Tom's Cabin - Harriet Beecher Stowe.The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett.The Red Badge of Courage - Stephen Crane.The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne.I’ve talked about it before, and I damn well will again.Īnd I haven’t even talked about SHRINEBUILDER yet. It’s the first solo album from my friend and musical shaman, Scott “Wino” Weinrich. I just ordered this album, which is “officially” released on Tuesday. So what if I’m a couple issues behind in reading it. For the record, Orion is one of, if not my numero uno, favorite reads. To vanishings is almost too fragile to hold. No longer wadded in industry, this testament When I lifted it from the eave, fervor gone, Like this one from the Sept/Oct issue of Orion Magazine: I’m about half deaf if you want to reach, speak up.Īt the same time, every now and then one will just jump up unexpectedly and kick me in the gut. I respect poets and the thankless world they’ve chosen to live in, but so many of them come across to me as picky folks who talk too quiet. I have a couple books of poetry that I look in now and then, but I’ve about given up on trying to be a fan. At least once a year I try and “get it” but usually I don’t. I wave my middle finger at that stuff too. The rest of it seems to belong in a Hallmark card.
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So much of it is so obtuse that I feel dumb trying to figure it out, so I wave my middle finger at the page. >I tend to think I dislike poetry, and not just because I suck at it.