House of Leaves (69 page)

[
Typed
]

February 11, 1984

Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you?

[
E
]

August 4,
1985

I dream of vampires. I dream of god. I dream of no vampires. I dream of no god. I dream of nothing. And yet that too is still my dream.

[
F
]

May 2, 1988

The angel of his youth became the devil of his maturity. He went out with women when he was young, always holding something in reserve. There would always be a reason to break it off, which opened the door to a multitude of relationships. Heaven. Or so he thought. As age encroached upon his sensibilities and form, he longed for something with enough vitality to endure. But the covering cherub of his Lothario days had stayed with him and was no longer so angelic. It haunted him, guarded him, kept him from intimacy, promising the ash dry glory of so many toppling relationships, toppling like dominos, one after another, ad infinitum, or at least until he died.

[
G
]

August 30, 1988

“He wanted to go to bed with her immediately, pull the sheets around them, dig his toes into the mattress, her heals pushing against his calves, her fingers running rivers along his sides. But these days fantasies flourish and die like summer flies.”

[
Typed
]

March 18, 1989

A maze. Amazing maze. A maze meant… What did it mean? A May zing perhaps. M.A.s in the bush or amidst the maize. Quite amazing huh? Not to wony I am not that impressed either but grant an old man a chance to play.

[
H
]

February 8, 1990

It stinks here. I know what stink is and it stinks here. Cat piss, rotting fruit, moldy bread. Something. I am certain that girl is at fault. She must not have taken the garbage out. She can read (I will find out soon if she can transcribe) and she can flirt. But I wager she has failed to take the garbage out. I should get rid of her. I should take it out myself. I hate garbage. It stinks. I should throw it out myself. I should throw it all out.

[
I
]

October 11, 1990

Incomplete. Syllables to describe a life. Any life.

I cannot even discuss Günter Nitschke or Norberg-Schulz. I merely wanted
Glas
(Paris: Editions Galilee, 1974). That is all. But the bastards reply it is unavailable. Swine. All of them. Swine. Swine. Swine.

Mr. Leavey, Jr. and of course Mr. Rand will have to do.

[
I
]

April 22, 1991

An atrocity sinking into waters of darkness; without order or bars of earth; where light must mean shadow and reason dies in the hold:

((((((((((((Jonah in the belly of the beast))))))))))))

[
I
]

May 3, 1991

Stars to live by. Stars to steer by. Stars to die by.

[
I
]

May 26, 1991

Kutch Dekta?

Kutch Nahin, Sahib.

[
I
]

May 30, 1991

Do not wake me from this slumber, but be assured that just as I have wept much, I have also wandered many roads with my thoughts. Reminiscent of another film by my eye fell in. Aye.

[
J
]

June 30, 1991

Goddamn! Goddamn, Goddamn it! Goddamn! Goddamn!

God Damn! Yes, of course write it down! Write all of it down!

Everything I say! Every goddamn word! Goddamn! Capital 0!

Goddamn it all! All of it, every last word. Goddamn her wrong!

[
J
]

July 27, 1991

Make no mistake, those who write long books have nothing to say. Of course those who write short books have even less to say.

[
K
]

August 7, 1992

How did I end up here? I know of course. I am referring to the itinerary I followed. But that hardly helps me understand the whys any better. I still walk out into that dusty courtyard and stand amazed, amazed that I should have ended up stuck in such a shithole, then I think to myself “Not only did you end up here, you are going to die here too!” Of course Hollywood is the land of the blind with churches for the blind so in my case it makes a certain sense. You think I am bitter about being here, yes? You think I am bitter about this grave I live in and that bed of weeds I scratch around in? You think I am bitter about dying? What do you know? You know nothing about bitterness because you know nothing about love. Get out. Get out! No, stay. Please stay. Let us read something. Forget everything I just said. It is not so bad. I am just old and you know a good deal about love and I would like to think I know something more because of my age. Let us read something.

[
M
]

April 3, 1992

Walls black like black waters when they are heavy and seem to belong to other seas.

[
M
]

December 3,1992

Why can I sleep no more?

[
N
]

May 7, 1993

The house is history and history is uninhabited.

[
O
]

June 19, 1994

Prometheus, thief of light, giver of light, bound by the gods, must have been a book.

[
O
]

November 11, 1994

Defend a stray’s hun? Never used the word. Never will.

[
P: Written in the margin

of the December

15, 1974 entry.
]

April 3, 1995

“Forgive me please for including this. An old man’s mind is just as likely to wander as a young man’s,
but where a young man will forgive the
stray,
an old man will cut it
out.
Youth
always
tries to
fill
the void, an old man learns to live with it. It took
unlearn the fortunes found in a swerve. Perhaps this is no news to you-but then I have killed many men and I have both legs and I don’t think I ever quite equaled the-bald gnome Error who comes from his cave with featherless ankles to feast on the mighty dead
. [
173]

[
U
]

April 9, 1996

Paralipomena. n. From ME f. ecci. L f.
GK paraleipomena
f. PARA (It. imper. of
parare
defend)
(leipo
leave) omit.

[
X
]

October 2, 1996

All of which is pretty senseless without the beautiful light of Ruskin’s
Seven Lamps of Architecture.
Oh, what is the use?

[
Typed
]

December 18, 1996

The cats have been dying and everyone wonders why. I can hear my neighbors murmur. They murmur all the time: “It’s strange. Some cats die, some just disappear. No one knows why…”

Redwood. I saw him once a long time ago when I was young. I ran away and luckily, or no luck at all, he did not follow me. But now I cannot run and anyway this time I am certain he would follow.

[
Typed
]

December 21, 1996

Explanation is not half as strong as experience but experience is not half as strong as experience and understanding.

[
Original
]

December 23, 1996

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote something, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum’things has always been and always will be you.

I miss you.

C.

… and Pieces