#softypapa

I’ll gladly accept Hell as a consequence of my incredulity – as I suspect I get the better part of the bargain. #TheGoodLife

The dessert exists beneath the street, and upon the sea, and across the vault of heaven. Only within our hearts does the wildness fail, and only as long as we’re with another. Loneliness is the harbinger of that universal desolation we neither know nor want.

Almost ten years ago I invented the fiction of Mt. Wildness; a place in my mind which typified the remote wilderness of deep Japan. I never found Mt. Wildness there, though I sometimes heard the howling from that place, and I knew the approximate location of the long-deserted woodsman’s cabin on the near side of the mountain. When I came to America I forgot about Mt. Wildness for a time; focused…

My book needs a chapter on death; though this theme already pervades every section and page. Is it enough to reflect the atmosphere of indifference with my words? Should I also make explicit effort to relate what I’ve found haunting the wastes, and also the places where my species makes noise and laughter to push away the night? Perhaps it’s enough to let the finality beyond life blow like the…

The wilderness absorbs my life energy like sunlight into beach sand; warming the landscape slightly, minutely animating the passage of time. My wanderings, thoughts, and ambitions dissolve away to nothing with each aimless footstep. Purpose here has as much value as a diamond lost in the sand. Memory as much reach as the mortal who remembers. Solitude is the key to this grim vista. Walk with…

Finding the woodsman’s cabin

Though I know I’ve no real reason to be afraid, I’ll confess to some anxiety tonight when I realized that “Campo #1” may be the place I once referred to as “the woodsman’s cabin on the near side of Mt. Wildness.” It’s a frightful thing when fiction becomes reality, and the haunted places of the mind refuse to stay with the imagination.