The first time
seems more momentous, holding whole momentum of pent up thoughts bent behind it. Some sum of desire and faith opposed by an equal antithetical force of terror. Trembling. With too much joy or too much fear readable on the face of the screen creased by lines, wrinkles of doubt, I write. Self-conscious and terribly aware of the body across from me that might touch but could never empirically know. I'll grow sea green and coldy die in brineness and volubility because I haven't learned to have withholdings. I'm unbound bonding myself in this language, bound to want to bodysurf in the stream, streaming conciousness conscientiously. No form, nothing but body surfacing, I don't yet know how to stop from banging clumsily. I crash into these harbor keyes each wave of thought. Should learn to spread my hands out in front to stop, to give some shape to this surfing, not try to ride each wave to the very end, beyond deep enough water, not to plunge straight and hard into the pebbles of the shore at the end of the sentence. The first time is not about form, said a former formalist. The formula's not yet found, so I flounder. It's exciting. It's the exciting of the new old thing. Something I haven't tried but have talked about. Partly just trying to get through this first posting, to break the blog in. Partly enjoying this new nakedness, this vulnerability in volubility. But before I bleed all over the beach on this ground breaking expedition, I should set some ground rules. Grind my teeth and pull up short instead of grinding my body into beach sand. Ground myself because somethings shouldn't be allowed out of the house, my mouth, on weekday nights. Calling ourselves the house. It's not just the intimacy that's dangerous. I'm terrified of the conventions of this form just beginning to enjoy floating on. Scared of being conventional, doing already by wrote, and the conventional comment smoked when it's done. But I won't be scarred. Seemingly naked, the thick skin of Writer will protect. To learning by going where to go. This newly discovered shaking keeps me steady, I should know.
