I’ve been writing all night. I was talking about how strange the work of a writer is with my friend this morning. This led me to consider outlining the writing process I’ve adopted while I’m writing the new book. I’m still thinking about it, but it might pop up on here someday soon. In the meantime I’ve been reading Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. I started reading Miller about six months ago and I’ve been annoying anyone who will listen by raving about his work.
This quote is from Stand Still Like The Hummingbird. I was reading it while my friend sat beside me and I proclaimed, “holy shit! We’re kindred spirits!” This happens to bibliophiles from time to time, and it is always glorious to discover yourself in another, long dead, but certainly alive in spirit.
I see myself forever and ever as the ridiculous man, the lonely soul, the wanderer, the restless frustrated artist, the man in love with love, always in search of the absolute, always seeking the unattainable.