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2002-05-28

Vincent van Gogh
B. 3.30.1853 Groot Zundert, Holland / D. 7.29.1890 Auvers, France
Suicide / Revolver

You know how you can sometimes feel the words building up between your ears—the way they trickle like sand into your jaw muscles and clog them—all the way to your lips and their furrows, there’s pressure. Your pen tip’s a minuscule drain; its metronomic hovering half-an-inch above the page contributes nothing to the process of relief. Too long to be stuck on a bad stretch of sentence, up to your chin in broken variations on the same false start. . .twenty-five failures later, just to see whether anything would have followed, you end it quite arbitrarily.
What am I fourteen?

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