Morning pages from December 4, 1998
Wanted to go over and do Quicken but found myself here in wordpad writing a morning page. I would like not to write a morning page but am too obedient not to do it. In The Artist's Way the day will come when I read the pp. and see my fucking problems more clearly. What a horrible reading again last night. The State Arts Board likes me more. Maybe they are against me for bipolar white femininity.
I heard some good stuff last night but I am tired of being a connoseur (sp.) of bad poetry and song and ick. Want some rigid good quality to follow my fall. Want an agent, an editor, a publicist, a scout to find me readings. Want really to be the best writer and person I can be, and the universe dishes discouragement occasionally, and I face it rather bravely.
Good will to Gage and her endeavors. I'm very pleased for her and her recent breaks.
Trouble with M. He will not see the day as a time focus thing. People much dumber than we have made their way through recovery programs. He doesn't really mean it, again. He wants what he wants. He is probably doing a good job in new areas nonetheless.
Jack contact back to strong, though no sex.
Tired of my circles. God, let me off the circle ride. God, speak to me in my daily driving rituals. Tell me how I am doing. Tell me when I deserve it all, love.
Forgive me for being impetuous and ungrateful and not serene. Forgive the others for their potential judgments. Forgive me for not forgiving Holly her opinion. Forgive me for not forgiving her her superficiality. Forgive me for having drifted from my homebase at the University. Forgive me for missing smart people trained as I am trained. Forgive me for my disruptive politics.
Give me a mission such as the one that Toni Morrison has or Maya Angelou. I'll never look black. I'll never know my roots. I'm here as a here person. Let me be here now.
Let the precancer not bloom in my mouth, the stains not form, the drink not happen. Let me be colder and older than I am. Let me smile for myself and not wait to be told. Let me be a thinker not a looker. Let me look good as a matter of course. Let me look as I do, good when good. Let me not fall into disease. Let me keep up my boundaries, limits, standards. Let me think on Bruce. Let me recover. Let me pray for all who need my prayers. Let me remember the power of prayer. Let me release. Let me have faith and belief. Let me be useful. Let me come out on the bottom if it will help anyone or the top if the top needs me.
Let me find my writing pick ax and shovel. Let me craft each word with pure lovingness. Let me tell stories again. Let me not walk as if this were my personal Viet Nam War. Let me find shelter and peace and my God-given talents. Let me come out as a believer. Let me follow my first start.