writing

My mustache is long enough again that I can bite it.

Themes that have come out in my poetry this summer, unintentionally: darkness, reality and illusion, reaching/effort. I'm not sure why. That darkness isn't darkness as in evil or oppression, it's more like blindness or ignorance. Being "in the dark." Which is interesting to me, because I don't feel particularly in the dark right now, and I'm not feeling the uncertainty of the future very strongly. There are definitely things that I'm uncertain about, where I don't know how they will end up, but it's not something I feel a lot of despair about. Which makes sense, I can't put into writing most of the things that I feel a lot of emotion about at the time. Oh well, I have no idea why I write about what I write about, words just have a way of coming out for their own reasons.

Reality and illusion, things being real, things being illusory. This has probably been encouraged by reading Murakami, but it started--I think--before I'd ever read anything of his. It started sometime in spring quarter. I've written some about wells, too, but that was pre-Murakami as well (har har, unintentional). I'm not sure why I would write about things being real or illusory right now. Rumi's influenced me, though. More abstraction and less imagery. I have a habit of picking up other people's writing styles. Oh well.

I feel like I'm writing about God more in my poetry, too, but it's hard to say whether that's true or not.