viaduct notebook

racing the earth
Originally uploaded by hawkinsjosh

The following excerpts are from a journal that’s about 20 years old. One of the few that’s in an actual Blank Book rather than a simple spiral notebook, so it stands out. It also stands out for its place in Time - its time - my time. I was living over an art studio - The Spark. It was just across the 20th Street Viaduct. Cross that and you’d be right by Union Station -- not far from where I worked in a bookstore warehouse and too, the Art Student’s League - a handful of blocks farther into the city. This area had not yet been metamorphosed through redevelopment projects. It’s unrecognizable now from the place I knew. Most people would probably say that’s for the better and it’s much improved. I don’t really feel that way.

I was going to school and had a lot of interesting, thoughtful and creative people in my life. I tend to remember that time so ... fondly/idealized. Everything was just right. Striking then, the tone of this journal. Fairly dark (if that’s the word?). Something hurt and even a bit angry's conveyed . I don’t remember really feeling that. Something comes a cross a bit scared and …cynical ??? Not sure how to peg it. Such things don’t and haven’t really ever - felt/feel like a component of my constitution. I wonder that I perhaps tackled those shadows and darker forms - my “Hyde” side - using language - with so much upfront-ness … a certain aggressiveness, even - and in so doing was able to keep these aspects from really weaving their way into the pattern of my perspective or stance. I don’t know.

There’s a lack of artistry and disorder to the words that make them very ... artistic and clear to me as I read it now (of course). So obviously ironic that it isn’t at all. Some other author - vaguely familiar. What “she” says hits me pretty hard, sometimes. Talking about the people she works with and for - the booksellers and artists - and the strangers - and men - and herself - through metaphor or more direct narrative - she isn’t though … she’s not really talking about any of it. Just moving through herself - looking, I think. She’s only around twenty years old, after all. I shake my head at her - but still keep reading . So, I think I’ll be revisiting this journal for awhile here. Posting excerpts “as is” - keeping my sticky little editor that wants to change or add just a word or two - out of it. I think she has something to offer. I’m just unclear as to what that is right now.

So. Stay tuned.