Pulitzer Surprise
Everyday I play pretend� I am every author on the Time�s bestsellers list, every genre of futile expression� autobiography, self-help section (check), fiction, history� its all there� or shall I say here�
None of these Pulitzer pieces are bound, rather they reverberate constantly in my mind as I narrate and interpret� author and reader simultaneously talking over each other in my head. I read each piece aloud as it�s written with my best inflection and pace imagining my captive audience to enthrall� I humor only myself and then move on to my next distraction� never stopping to write any of it down, for even my most wildly indulgent prose looks silly and contrived on paper� naked as we are in our recurrent nightmares�
There wouldn�t be time to put it all down if I tried, for its simply me bound in a hardcover head� enumerated by minutes instead of pages� footnoted with every emotion in the dictionary and those for which there are no words�
Sometimes I flatter myself into thinking I am alone in my dictations, that I am the only person reading my life aloud to and audience of one as it�s being conjured up�but perhaps I was absent the day they covered self absorbed in health class, or maybe I really am a hypochondriac with the self diagnosis of tortured artist.
Whatever the case may be, this way of life is taxing; one can only look back, forward and within so many times before its all been said and done before� I am redundant even now in my detest of monotony� Yet its so very difficult to turn off the tape recorder and throw away the microscope� there sometimes lies an overwhelming need for silence, stillness, and calm, but these luxuries are rarely found even in sleep� there must be a way to turn off the brain and still go on living... but that would be a paradox, so all we as authors are left with are these few fleeting escapes�
I commiserate with the heroin addict, the sex junkie, the daydreamer who got called upon in class� I am all of these things and more in my many memoirs being written as we speak in the diary of my imagination� I am attempting the impossible; I am trying to out-write reality or at the very least beat it to the chase�.