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On Madness

October 29, 2012

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, madness is “Disordered in mind: insane 2) Furious, enraged 3) Being rash and foolish 4) Carried away by enthusiasm 5) Rabid 6) marked by wild gaiety and merriment 7) Frantic… Insane: Exhibiting serious and debilitating mental disorder. Absurd. Greatly exceeding the ordinary, visual, or expected.”

According to Albert Einstein, insanity is committing the same act with repetition expecting different results…

So I write, furiously and enraged; at times saying rash and foolish things, most often carried away by enthusiasm as my pen dances across the page. Rabid? Sure! And as I finish my piece, the moment is marked with wild gaiety and merriment, for I am momentarily free and, Jesus, I have said those things I’ve struggled to relate and it… it appears to make (some sort of) sense! Then I am frantic… Does it make sense? Is it any good? With any hope I will conclude that it is.. then I am frantic again… will this be my last? Dear Lord, dreading the day (or night!) I run out of words and/or forget how to arrange and display these words–give them meaning. I put the poem/story away or enclose it in an envelope and send it out to my grandmother. And sometimes I am able to catch my breath before the entire ordeal begins again.

My dear Lord, I am mad! But it is a beautiful refulgence… See my latest endeavor: With Thoughts of Her.

I have been reading The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Great book. Classic. Reading such classics does feed my literati mind and I have been able to learn from them. So, it has helped my writing, and it is a great way to free my mind of this mundane, blasé prison life. If I sat here and stared at the walls all day, I am sure that would nascent a “washboard of blood.” I would probably begin to beat my head repeatedly against them until the stars of unconsciousness shone brightly and I drifted into its sweet space.

On another note: I marvel and admire the longevity of literature. Books from the 1800’s, translated and reprinted over decades, poetry from medieval times, characters carved into stone. I can only hope to immortalize my soul, for this flesh hasn’t but so long. I’m still searching for that gem, that jewel…

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