I'm Going to Need a Bigger Seed (11/11/08 Tuesday)

The editing didn't take long--very little revising or excising, even on the new material. But it's been six hours since that was done, and I can't get down to transcribing a clean copy, the last preliminary draft. I'm looking at the end of something I don't want to see the end of; something that never actually started; something that's turrned out to be nothing more than a "project," an experiment, an exercise in futility. Twenty thousand words of neurotic tail-chasing--my own, that is. A failure. And will this even bring closure? Do I want closure? Do I really want the torture to end? This has been about so much more than Julie that the void of its absence could be more vast than it ever was before I laid eyes on her. Letting go of Julie is letting go of more than a hope or a dream. It's letting go of an inspiration, a meaning, a need. Where do I find those again?

But this is not a letting-go, is it? It's pulling-out-by-the-roots: I planted a seed, poked a hole in the soil, now I'm tearing a tree from the ground, leaving a crumbling maw.