durdinah ⋅ 40 ⋅
I'm a wanderer who is unsure if he wants a home or not. Maybe I'll always want to keep walking. I'm of countless interests that are often too difficult to explain in brief. I'm looking for something that is beyond what the world is constantly offering me.
'I live in a beautiful, blinding, swirling mist…' -Charles Laughton, 1936 in Rembrandt
Entries 32
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Saudade in Letters of Renaissance
It’s been years on now, and really I cannot quite remember the exact moment when. The years and months have passed and somehow the description of a crippled girl residing in a cottage filled wi...
Why Have You Come Here in Letters of Renaissance
Years past, I awoke cold and wild in the all consuming darkness of my bed and my room and night. And ocean of waves that swept over me with the vision of a young woman I’d known walking away, r...
When Nothing Else Will Work in Letters of Renaissance
Whatever it may have been that I had done wrong, whenever it was, to this day it remains unknown. I’ve searched my mind, our past, for nothing. Or very little in the face of the change that ca...
At The Well in Letters of Renaissance
It’s alarming, unknown to me, how somewhere the memories mutter and some fade. Some disagree. Some approach nearly faded and speak to me. Quiet apparition, names once spoken, beds we once shar...
Excerpt: Where I’ve Been in Letters of Renaissance
I’ve felt guilty for not being by for so many weeks now. It seems like one thing after another has fallen into a place in the entirety of the puzzle that is a life. It’s nothing that has been ...
Geologic in Letters of Renaissance
So many are the colours, the patterns, in he sedimentary stones before me. They are what once was, all bound together. Plant and animal a part of what is seen. Weather and water and life gave...
Over Malady of Drifts in Letters of Renaissance
It’s with a steady passage into lethargy I came to this night. It’s with the unique loneliness that comes with night and a blizzards face. The cold sweeps in, the phones are quiet on their hoo...
Feral Phases of the Moon in Letters of Renaissance
There has been a full moon all week long. Strangers come to my doorstep asking for a ride into town. The clouds weep and the tears pour out in rivers over the earth, far too saturated to bear ...
Our Dues in Letters of Renaissance
“What about the friends I had back then, when I was younger? I’m afraid, has the flood taken them away?” I stroked her small back as she lay in bed amongst the sheets and covers. All was quiet...
Aztec: Piece One in Letters of Renaissance
How would Fate prefer us? What about Fate and how we remember her? Fate possesses an unfortunate state in all our lives, she seems to lack control as she brings some together and let’s others ...
Trespasser in Letters of Renaissance
There are wrongs I have done and left behind. I’ve come clean amongst the boisterous calls and hooting in taverns and over coffee trays. I’ve whispered and wept in presence and alone a multitu...
Two Kings in Letters of Renaissance
Years ago I transported a meth addict and his girlfriend to an old, dour mansion on one end of Omaha. There was a stone wall and a large iron gate from which all the black paint had long ago ...
There Is A Life Next to Ours in The Mysteries of Vorkuta
There is a life next to ours. Aside of ours. I wait for you in the dark. The wait passionate. A foreign desire. I wish I knew what could be done. We are only stars. Only stars in a va...
Abused and Belonging in The Mysteries of Vorkuta
How else can I approach this, but to say, that somewhere buried in the murk of abuse a single star rose up from behind the curtain-like horizon. That single star hung in my mind a long time and ...
The Weight of Our Experiences in The Mysteries of Vorkuta
Why, as wise as I have become to the games and the heartaches, have I continued to hunt for what hurts me? I drive onward to what eventually leaves me in longing. Is this living? The more dam...
She Quits Cold in The Mysteries of Vorkuta
Simplicity has driven me, it has driven me very far at times to the furthest depths of waste and disharmony and maybe all without reason. And maybe all because of too much thinking. I may never...
A Mark On the Hand in The Hilary Letters
The hands are dry and weak. This place I’ve come to be. This place in the center of solitude and silence. The barren land that surrounds me. Peoples opinions and movements toward a better f...
A Psalm of Lament in The Hilary Letters
Going into your room I find everything just as quaintly undone as I’d always imagined it to be. Empty bedsheets coiled in directions that are unfamiliar to me, but in a way that I can draw an im...
Young Beggars in Letters of Renaissance
Saying anything may be better than nothing. Once in awhile I see her mother, working at the little grocer across the street from where I work. But even to her I choke on asking how her daught...
Blame the Victim in Letters of Renaissance
For the last week or so, the glass, my skin, has felt incredibly thin and weak. Brittle as a sheath of ice across a puddle at the break of a November morning. I don’t want it to be known how p...
Alighted in Letters of Renaissance
In the kitchen there stood a large basin, filled and heaped over with freshly picked leaves of kale. I’d done this myself. I washed them gently under cold water and took care as I cut them to ...
Page upon page, there are so many faces I draw and concern myself over. An extra mark or a shadow here, now there. A line upon the face changes the mood, eyelids set in a studious placidity, or...
A Wakeful Night in Letters of Renaissance
There are other places in the night, lesser than everything but loneliness. Night in its shroud seems to prolong and carry gently every minute at a much greater length when loneliness visits. L...
The Trellis in Letters of Renaissance
Where are you? Are you standing beneath and looking at the same moon that I am and that I see right now? Or are you whisking across a river on the farther end of this; beneath our sun, looking...
Sensibility in Letters of Renaissance
It’s been without meaning, or so it seems. I have the sensation of lacerations, invisible jagged stone grinding on the palms of my hands, invisible separations. Phantom limbs and all is still ...
