Last summer I went organic farming across France. I am re-discovering all that I wrote then in English among the French. Unedited ok.
Discord in personality happens when there is a disparity between desires and the ability to fulfill them. Harmony can be reached when they are removed. I have no expectations for this trip this every experience is fulfilling me. I am open because I have been able to explore my desires as they come not thinking them through before they happen. The desires are consequences of the situations I am in thus they are by really desires but
Life? I am then in the moment.
Neurosis is a byproduct of the desire to create. But you must not let neurosis trump and make you impotent. You must reach it through imagination Anais Nin says. In the imagination we can go to the core and take the time we need. We create time in the imagination.
I am on a regional train from Nice to Ventimillia. The south of France is encased in a sticky booze scent. The train is a medley of the rich and poor and I don’t even have a seat. I’m trying to finish the Anais diary but the frequent stops fragment my arrival in her words. I drank a coke too fast. My stomach hurts. There are overarching cliffs with tropical trees at the stations. The south of France does not appeal to me. I have visited it a few times. I will be glad to pass. Nice is mote hecic than London or Paris. Maybe the heat. Maybe the anticipation of desire. Nice is a beast. I am exhausted from carrying my luggage up and down stairs. I have never sweated so much. It is pouring down my back and between my breasts. My forehead is steaming. Italy will be difficult too. I want to wear my new clothes for J. My Parisian vetements. Alas the Italian weather and all my bags don’t seem to mix. I am nervous to see him. I imagine him inside me. I have been so full other ways…. Yesterday F and I met. F so White. So asexual. He is working in the south with his wife. He is overworked. There is no energy to him. I don’t let him open. I am too consumed by being alive. He seems so grown up. I feel like a younger girl, a precorious cousin he met with to hear her self-absorbed monologues.
More France. All the ineffability. Pastis. Learning.
Genova when passing it on the train looks like Paris used to. In my mind of course.
There are giant ships on the shore. Bigger than any I have ever seen.
I enjoy the darkness of the skin and the shadowed features of Italians. Of the south. Of the sun. … I feel I live in such complete transparency with my life in the sense I don’t keep private friends. I feel this negates my private actions. I feel betrayal at the thought of not being entrusted with information more than actions.
Gunpowder will not burn of it’s own accord, but only let a spark come near and it explodes. – gamiani, two nights of excess Alfred de musset.