My feet reluctant linger at the gate

I'm inadvertently getting into the olde American poets. All that New York Times reading of late, I guess. I wanted to post a picture of the new Firstdraft here but I can't find them on their website, despite what Will tells me. I'm so proud of all the great stuff everyone is doing.

Why does that paragraph want to indent itself? How odd.

Transformed the very landscape seems to be;

It is the same, yet not the same to me.

So many memories crowd upon my brain,

So many ghosts are in the wooded plain,

I fain would steal away, with noiseless tread,

As from a house where some one lieth dead.

I cannot go;—I pause;—I hesitate;

My feet reluctant linger at the gate;

As one who struggles in a troubled dream

To speak and cannot, to myself I seem.

Vanish the dream! Vanish the idle fears!

Vanish the rolling mists of fifty years!

Whatever time or space may intervene,

I will not be a stranger in this scene.

Here every doubt, all indecision, ends;

Hail, my companions, comrades, classmates, friends! 

2008

Welcome to previously unacknowledged readers.

Life in 2008 is going to be interesting. It is interesting already. I have felt like I have a new life with greater frequency of late. I mean, lately I have more frequently experienced the feeling that my life has taken an interesting new turn. That's what I mean.

I like it: it's good. I also know the most amazing people, for which I consider myself very fortunate. I also have a strong feeling of my own autonomy that I don't always feel. Instead of the guilty feeling that it's all about me. [Which it still, of course, is.] I'm feeling perspectival clarity instead of the regularly programmed perspectival distortion. Or maybe I'm just distorting things positively for a change, who knows. I believe it's perspectival accuracy.

Just got to kick this fucked up sleeping pattern.

And eat something.

I'm going to watch No Country For Old Men tonight.