July 17, 2007 § 9 Comments
Birdsong and morning trains. It isn’t going well.
The night, for me, has never been about truth. The night is about regret and secrecy and passion, and longing and recrimination and rumination. But not truth. Truth is best observed and channeled in the morning’s light. And truth is essential to what we do.
[ . . . ]
What I think about at night, what I don’t think about at night, what I don’t realize I’m thinking about until it works its way into my dreams, that’s filling the tank. Night is for maintenance and detailing. And mornings are for writing.
I suspect it has finally come to it: I have to become a day person. Ugh.