The Deepest Part of the Ocean Will Remain Forever Dark ...

... until the sun boils away the seas and we are long gone.

Listening to - Philip Glass - not sure which title though.

There are so many possible catalysts about. I cannot choose which to go with. The thought of the screen equivalent of blank paper is too much. In the poetry document (which is close by here - so close to you, like being just out reach in the fourth dimension), the moment after the chore of emboldening the title seems to be loaded with so much possibility. There are thousands of words in the language and so many ways to put them together. The first character almost seems to burn itself into the electronics and the recoil comes back at me through the keyboard. The poem last night was written in a notebook with a fountain pen and it felt so good; I love the little acts of crossing out and inserting words; it just seems so powerful to be able to command these images with just a pen. It is all very well with a photograph or a paintbrush but nearly everyone can use a pen. I could not imagine how those clunky typewriters ever caught on what with the need for snow-pake/Tippex etc. At the moment blank paper or screen seems to demand to be filled.

Why is modern life so obsessed with triviality? Maybe I take things too seriously. Recently I have become worried that I am recovering from autism. I had many obsessions in my teens, with turning off taps and shutting doors etc. I still cannot look a stranger in the eye; it just seems not right. Could someone with the emotional blankness that autism produces produce poems? Maybe I have learned the correct reactions like psychopaths learn how to react to the things that they are unable to connect with emotionally. Maybe other things cause my emotional problems.

As you may have worked out, I got these worries after reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. I see the obsessions of the main character as almost normal, the science, the lack of eye contact, the touch taboos etc. I have learnt to react over the years in order to get by. Maybe my brain has corrected itself like a stroke sufferer who loses the function handled by the destroyed part of their brain and regains it after the brain re-wires itself to bypass the damage and free-up undamaged circuits. I feel emotional at times; I cry at all the requisite things right down to the death of the Tsar and they feel real and deeply meaningful to me. My worries cannot have basis in fact.

Word does not seem to have corrected any grammar in this piece. Maybe I am beginning to learn Word's style. Maybe it is a trick like the Encarta Dictionary of World English, a trick to force us all to talk like Microsoft as well as to use their software. Well at least I can string some words together. Please tell me if there are any grocers' apostrophes. I assume that I have that correct, as it is many grocers who have apostrophes and therefore the apostrophe goes after the s which indicates the plural. Lynne Truss has made me a proto-stickler. I though the reviewer who complained that the statement about lack of capitalisation with reference to e.e. cummings (sic) was being a bit pedantic when he stated that Mr. Cummings always capitalised his name. This page proves that he DID but the point being made was that most people immediately think of lack of capitalisation in Cummings' poetry (See another one - they're getting in everywhere - there goes another one) and the best way to indicate this was to use the version of his name which comes to mind. It was - horror - a joke.

Some E.E. Cummings to end with i think.

anyone lived in a pretty how town