The Notebook Transcripts ( a series of found pages).

I wrote this in a notebook, three months ago, but here is the transcript...

"Felt horribly nervous this evening. Was waiting for a few grades that I need to get at some point this week. I hate getting nervous because of grades. Took a shower and a sleeping pill I found in a pocket of a coat tonight, it was a coat I wore last winter. It didn’t do anything to me, so I washed it down with more coffee. I am working much less now and have more time to study, to sleep and to contemplate.

At times like this I realize what a difficult job life is. It is marvelous how one manages to go on and on and on despite all the fears and disappointments and all the other “Parts, bits, cogs, and shining multiples” we tumble upon. I think Sylvia Plath must have been in a mood like mine when she wrote that poem. I bet she was a woman who had plenty of guts, before she committed suicide that is. She wasn’t a dam sissy like I am. It takes guts and plenty of them to be an artist in this unartistic world, a poet in this unpoetic world. Especially when you aren’t even that into poetry, especially when you aren’t even a good artist."