Train of Thought

That was a clever title, wasn’t it? Well it’s over. I’m done with cleverness. Finished. I’m killing it for good. I’m so sick of writing that comments on itself, that shines with cleverness. That writing that urges the reader to notice how smart the writer is, how aware. How meaningless, to be self-aware and to write about writing and to point out the writing while writing it--I'm sick of it!

And not just when it occurs in other people’s writing, but in my own. Some time in grad school I was abducted and my skull opened and a thousand little slits cut into my brain. Into each slit they fit a sliver of mirror so my mind could only see itself, in infinite duplication.

This tires me, I want the mirrors gone so there can be a steady unbroken stream of light, instead of light echoed.

Life should be unreflected, even by writing, and writing should be its own kind of life--a pure stream of it.