My therapist asked me this week if I was truthful with her. "Mostly," I said, "except sometimes, I'm wary of your agenda." She smiled and asked me what her agenda was. "I think you want me to say, 'Fuck you world, I'm gonna do what I want,'" I told her. She laughed and said that she really didn't have much of an agenda. "That's frightening," I said. She admitted that she tries to speak what she hears me say. "Then I guess that would make it my agenda," I told her. "I am wary of my agenda." She asked me what I wanted that was so frightening. "Apparently, I want to say 'Fuck you world, I'm gonna do what I want.'" She thought this was funny, too. I could destroy people with what I want, she said. "I would have to be a pretty angry guy to do that," I said, "Are you saying you think I'm an angry guy?" She told me that she thought I was an angry guy, but that she was not afraid of me. "I guess that makes my silence powerful," I told her. She asked if I planned to save the world with my silence. "That would be nice," I said. She asked if I was really that nice. I paused, and said, "No, I want to say 'Fuck you world, I'm gonna do what I want.'" She said that there wasn't much more as a counselor she could do to help me. I asked, "Is that what you think or what I'm saying?"

How Patrick Garrison Did For William Harrigan What He Could Not Do For Himself

William Harrigan,

I will find you
when I am dead.
I will introduce myself to you.
I will kill you once again.
You must die.
I gave you life
for death.
When we both are dead
I offer you perfection when I kill you once again.
You must die.
Do you remember me?
I shot you dead.
I set you free.
I made a name for us.
Now, you must die.

Sincerely,

Patrick Garrison

Once, I Dreamed That I Was Samuel Clemens

Once, I dreamed that I was
Samuel Clemens.
I dreamed I was white
like a dove.

I dreamed I stole God
from my lady love,
and turned all my words
into dollars.

If I really was
Samuel Clemens,
I'd sit by the fire
in a nightgown.

All the stories I'd tell
would all gather 'round.
They'd judge me
so quietly.

Gather 'round the fire
and listen closely to me.
You can tell a lot about a man
from his stories.

My thoughts about blogging are someone else's thoughts about dancing.

Danse Russe

If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,--
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
"I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
again the yellow drawn shades,--

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

-William Carlos Williams