PA * 2007 Love Story * Write Directory *
I enjoy my exile in Fairbanks, like the Decembrists in Siberia. It's confortable. They too never wrote about it.
... New structure:
The Possessed 2003
WRITE : nonfiction
Questionsnew: 2003 *
NotesWhat an irony that I ended up between Russia and America, in Alaska. Not here, nor there. Between times as well.
2004 & After
... The place and time where my American story ends. In Alaska.
In time it will be that dreadful Y2K. Right at the end of it, but this is the story of the next book -- SELF, where time and space are different.
... The Zenon's paradox of the errow you can experience in car or plane, you are in the present, although constantly leaving the past and entering the present. This is how I lived my life, there was the future and the past. The most important, most desirable was the future. American, Soviet idea? If this "duture" is not balanced by the past, the present means little; you are never here and now. This is not less dangerous than "living in the past" -- perhaps even more dangerous "to live in the future." "Dengerous" -- if this defintion can say much about of not having life, missing yourself. What is this future? How do I know that I have it? Only a child could feel this way. ...
We drove to Alaska in two cars and the mini-Uhall behind the grand wagoneer. All the way from Roanoke, VA. It was in August of 1989 and the kids were in the back of that jeep that died in Delta Junction, less than a hundred miles from Fairbanks.
But maybe I better write about it in 1989, the time page. Maybe here I should write the end of the story. My goodbye to the space and time. Goodbye, Alaska!
Good bye, America!
No, I didn't know much about "goodbye" -- I thought it was "hello" and "welcome".... I was fourty, I should know better, I should know myself, but I, this "me," was the last man I was ready to talk with. My entire life I mistreated myself, without any respect to what I can do and what I should never get myself involved. Yes, I was fourty and I believed that my life hasn't began yet.
Goethe - "Colors are the deeds and sufferings of light" -- God, let me write like this!