I'm at a friend's in New Mexico, with the first Barbra Streisand special from 1965 in the background, wondering once again why they cut "The only music that makes me dance" from the movie of Funny Girl. Such a great song.
But--the real reason I'm writing is that it's New Year's day, and I have had this idea for a time. I've wanted to do some automatic writing for myself--prose, poetry, dialogue--just see what comes out. And I'd like to write something every day. So I figured about as many people read this as my journal (me), that I might as well do it on line, as I will have a brand-spanking new cable modem soon, as it's about the same as dialup. Who knew? So this way I can write, put it out there, and not edit. And it's more of a commmitment this way. If I'm away from a computer, I'll just use paper (which, truth be told, I like better). And it hopefully won't be the navel-gazing obsessing of journaling.
So it's late, I'm not sure what I want to write if anything, so I'll leave with an image. I've been having some intense dreams lately--scary, crazy, intense. I don't remember most of them, but here's an image I woke up with recently. I am underwater, looking at myself from under myself. The sun is shining down in the water, and I can see it from where I am, looking over my own left shoulder. I think I'm wearing a turtleneck. I can swim, but my body is floating. Perhaps in pain. Perhaps floating--it's hard to tell from underneath.
So, not prose, not much, just an image. I hope to keep to this, and not cheat with criticism. Memoir, or me-moir as I like to call it, may pop up it's self-fascinated little head. We'll see. And movie reviews, etc., but those don't count for this. Watch for the title "the 365". One day at a time, right?
Well, happy New Year. Hopefully it will be a great one for everyone. And here we go....