July 11

Little means anything today. I’m kept with a sadness that is holding me… I’m watching the history of the civil war. From the early settlers and pioneers moving westward and then the civil war, it becomes clearer to me why I much favor history to the present day. Why I don’t fit today. There is nothing glorious about our age. Then. Everything meant glory. It was kill or be killed and you had to fight to live, to mean something. And everything meant something. Not like today. Nothing means anything today. Relationships are too lightly taken as to myself hardly ever seeing a couple in real “Love”… no one writes poetry for one another….missing has gone missing….there are no great novels, or composers…I do not mean there are not great artists…there are some to say the least yes…but it just doesn’t CHANGE things anymore. Not like it use to. It doesn’t change the world….Not like I had hoped music and art still would…and I so wanted to see a revolution as our ancestors have seen before us. I WANTED it…bleeding, crying and playing out before my very eyes. So I could feel. So I could breath in the shift of powers and possess a moment. Be truly part of time. We are standing for little and our freedoms are so great we forget we have much to give. The world is more then this….we are too smoothed over like a stone too washed down from the waves of technology for anything to stick with us…violence, love, the greatest song ever heard…it barely touches our surface…I had hoped our eyes would be opened…my whole youth…please…open societies eyes…to religious hypocrisy…corruptions and secret evils we are blinded to as youths…what did it mean really…years of wasted hope on them…and in the end. I was no one to no one again anyway…
It hurts me. That I do not fit today. And I have tried but I feel stuck in the wrong time. I am not like these other women of today. I value much and seem stranger for it.

Introduction

There have been many ideas swarming about me as of late. Many things I am to later, here
or there, jot down… forget, and start all over again. At the time, as an artists whose eyes
stream open, almost nothing is more important...then that time. That time...Where ideas are realized, songs are distant formations, or a moment is felt as a lightning strike is beautiful to be seen. I don't know now as I didn’t know before, If it all matters...If my thoughts will ever be heard. If they are heard will they sink into another, like a good book to a reader absorbed and in love. It doesn’t matter. I write only for myself...if nothing more then to remember my own passions are still alive and my own thoughts are just that...my own.