It has been raining "on and off all day - and what makes it spooky - no! that's just "half of it" - sad is the sound of a few children playing in the street back of a school.
Little hope for me! - Tomorrow's forecast: clearing by "late morning" this aside, however, no stars visible to-night. Returning home...head achy... "stricken"... saturnine...
I am confronted by certain "inexpugnable barriers", which are voices. But there are no signs in the sky, no ghostly phalanges pacing the borders of the streets: in truth, the "phantasms" are voices. It is difficult to image these states of a person, especially where there's no wish to find a corresponding "sensible nature" of activity outside: one might call it vision of a non-sensible order (logical, if you will). - I am comforting myself - taking delight in conversing with certain states of my "self" (ha! that's not it either - that is, it's use-less to loiter in a "dark pantry" when all the motes of sunlight use "peopling the living-room) - I want it understood now that I shall never again attempt friendly relations with the world - at least not the one they've "done up" - myself the singer, seeking the true cometh by "course" upon the beautiful. - I shall not complete, enter into the "lists" - it is "astounding" how periphrastic the impostumation of vanity is; that is when it "appeareth" in the heart of a competitor. Withdraw! or if you must walk under this cope of "pestilential tenebrosity" remember the weary eye is not for any "unnatural reason directed toward the ground (the foot): for all things considered the flow of light is from within. - Are these words written for the sake of consolation? if so for whom? and for what time? Is there a purposive act "behind" this writing to "make" solid that which is fluid, so that when another's eyes "take in" it may retain its solidity yet impart it fluidity.
Courtesy, The Fales Library, Special Collections, New York University.