Prose / Blog

I was watching Ben Lerner explain false starts and how he was able to write seamlessly, only to later on see how everything came together as if one narrative (this reminds me of The Fourth Meal.) He generally writes in opposition to fiction, yet not writing non fiction. To him, writing is a series of glitches turned into features, in which became a way for him to architecture his prose poetically.

In the fashion of Jack Kerouac: When I get to the top of a rock that I have worked up some blood, sweat, and tears for and I see the world below me has shrunken down to a overwhelmingly silent sight of the sky skirting the land, I figure I would come face to face with God or Buddha and have myself a holy or trippy experience -- but no, instead I simply come face to face with myself. The hero Kero inspired the Beats that busted and rumbled up that goddamn mountain, and Nick Rosen was the filmmaker that made sure those words echoed for enthusiasts and fanatics, like myself, to get up there and do it. It’s those same enthusiasts and fanatics: young or old, experienced or naive, afraid or brave, that are the ones I get to sit on top of the world with and have a crazy conversation about God only knows what.

My mind grew tired with the setting sun. My mind grew tired at the end of sleep. My mind grew tired with the rising sun. My mind grew tired at the end of awakening. My mind grew tired at the end of an hour. My mind grew tired at the end of a minute. My mind grows tired at the end of every second. In the moment the heart beckoned, and by chance the mind reckoned. I heard a Budding Buddy of mine, the Budding Buddy of my mind, tell me that it is time to rise with the sun, and then later fall into peace when the sun sets. I am to remember all that has made me my best before I retire to my rest. These are the happenings of my yoga practice.