I’m trying to get back into a good habit, which is almost as hard as getting out of a bad one. And I’m still paralyzed, in many respects, because of the move and everything that came with it. In the chaos of recent days, in the constant frantic struggle to find and attempt to secure a little order, I’ve had neither the space, the time, nor the mental capacity for any other kind of work. Things still aren’t in their final places, and there’s a lot, and I mean a lot, to be done in the new house, but some kind of system has been restored, at least in terms of space. Time is still messy and unstructured, and I suspect this lack of structure in my time is leading to a similar lack of structure in my conscious self. It’s hard to feel connected to myself, not just in the profound sense, but in small ways and small everyday actions. You are yourself, but you’re also your environment; the self is extended and projected into its surroundings, and any disruption there disrupts the whole psyche.

I’m trying, then, to go back to my old handwriting work as a way of recovering my lost self more fully. I imagine that this habit, more than any of the other good habits I’ll try to adopt over the coming days, will give me a rhythm, a guide, a base on which to construct a way of life in this new house, and in this new time she and I are beginning together.

Part Three: Exercises

Part Three: Exercises

February 18, 1991