There are many things I’d like to keep private. Most things, in fact. I’ve always had a diary. Here’s one from 1993. I still have the key. I was nine. And I also have many poems I’ve cut over the years. Sometimes at the last minute before a book goes to print. Sometimes right after writing them.
Jan 21, 2023·edited Jan 21, 2023Liked by Alex Dimitrov
The poem is poignant. So much of our hours are filled with the mundane, side stepping the big questions. It’s like we turn the radio on to drown out our own heartbeat.
The best gift I gave myself recently is subscribing to your brilliant Substack, AD. Each new entry is as rare, original and singular as Visionnaire when you could only get access via petitioned invitation. Bravo & thank you.
I felt this poem so deeply. When I read it again, scrutinize it too carefully, it makes no grammatically sense (all the things I would do for love). And yet, it makes all the sense, more sense I could ever put into words. It’s an abstraction. A tangible abstraction. Even your unpublished poems become heartbreakers. Ty for sharing. ♣️
My favorite book title is "Nights With People, Days Without." So potent! Also I do think there is a beauty to reading the "bad poems" of people we already know can write "good poems" -- it gives them a more human, egalitarian quality. Like, all of our creativity when it flows out is wonky and weird -- then we either have the skills and desire to shape it up, or we don't. But the original channeling is often very similar in "quality" between the talented and the otherwise. All that said, I absolutely hate reading people's bad poems when they haven't shown that they can or are trying to write something better LOL.
Firstly, I was interested in reading the diaries for unknown reasons. With time my curiosity grew about what was not in there. Then I keep asking myself whether he is writing a journal for himself? I hope you are. Which no one could ever read.
The poem is poignant. So much of our hours are filled with the mundane, side stepping the big questions. It’s like we turn the radio on to drown out our own heartbeat.
The best gift I gave myself recently is subscribing to your brilliant Substack, AD. Each new entry is as rare, original and singular as Visionnaire when you could only get access via petitioned invitation. Bravo & thank you.
I felt this poem so deeply. When I read it again, scrutinize it too carefully, it makes no grammatically sense (all the things I would do for love). And yet, it makes all the sense, more sense I could ever put into words. It’s an abstraction. A tangible abstraction. Even your unpublished poems become heartbreakers. Ty for sharing. ♣️
My favorite book title is "Nights With People, Days Without." So potent! Also I do think there is a beauty to reading the "bad poems" of people we already know can write "good poems" -- it gives them a more human, egalitarian quality. Like, all of our creativity when it flows out is wonky and weird -- then we either have the skills and desire to shape it up, or we don't. But the original channeling is often very similar in "quality" between the talented and the otherwise. All that said, I absolutely hate reading people's bad poems when they haven't shown that they can or are trying to write something better LOL.
Love the diary book, especially the pinkie heartie lockie～😍 I used to have two or three but none of them escape from my mom’s invasion😢
Firstly, I was interested in reading the diaries for unknown reasons. With time my curiosity grew about what was not in there. Then I keep asking myself whether he is writing a journal for himself? I hope you are. Which no one could ever read.
To keep something for so long is special. 1993? Wow.