Thanks Kate! Nice set up! I won't be making too many changes for the moment. Beautiful blog template. I love it. And I'll have to think think think about your intro to the book! Thanks for sharing.

I've been thinking a lot, too much, about the future. ( that nebulous cloud so full of water and promises.) Writing this essay and editing it over and over has led me to believe, again, in an odd way, that perhaps I could be a writer. Although this essay in many ways is the truth the whole truth so help me goodness, it is also a fiction because of how far it is projected into a future that is still so utterly unknown. I feel as if I have a projector that is whirring away, vibrating between my palms and it's telling a story and every minute the screen is getting wider but with each moment I have to take a step further back to see the whole picture, thus furthering me from the work itself--things become slightly blurred. This essay is a projection of my past and present experiences onto the idea of a future for myself--a future that may or may not exist--that's up to me an fate. Fiction is a lot like that, though the screen is controlled a bit more, or at least we'd like to think so. I haven't written anything in so long because I've been cramped in between Heidegger and Tolstoy. It's hard to compete with classic words, you end up living inside Ecclesiastes on repeat over-and-over in your head.

I want to live the fullest life possible. How is that done? Through meditation? Through fulfillment of passion? Through release? Through destruction and reconstruction? Through self-immolation? Through actualization of self? Or some combination of all the above. I like that your book is going to explore want and what happens when desire is taken to the utmost extreme--desire as creation, death, sex, spirit, food etc. And gosh, people get so caught up in what other people are telling them and in what words they are saying that they forget what it is to feel real WANT. Want as in I, not as in they said I want this, or I want this because, just I want. I know I want connection. Connection like talking to an old friend, like talking to you, or my girls at St. John's--to feel something more than lust for a man and something unlike disapointment. I want to wake each day with a new yearning. I want to shed words and skin; I want to grow something new--if only to burn it all later. More later.