I picked up this old copy of The Odyssey (okay, well, since it is the oldest novel in the world, I guess saying I picked up an "old copy" could mean anything) from the 1940s, and was reading the translator's note, and it struck me how similar all my trying to explain how I write was to this guy's qualification for translating Homer how and why he did. And maybe that's really what I'm trying to do, see I've always labeled myself a journalist (and if you want to get into the difference between that and someone who writes "creative non-fiction" (blecch!) then you can go argue with your professor about it, but just stop reading me right now, I don't need your click or your royalties or your nothing, just leave... no. Yeah! I'm serious! Get the fuck out of here! I don't want you—shoo, go!) but maybe mostly I'm a translator. I think that's really why I'm doing this, because it seems like whoever that person up there in my head is might as well already be a dead person, in that, he (it? whoever lives in my head?) is as inaccessible and rigid and... well, just plain gone as Homer is. And it seems there is such a distance between whatever that thing is, and the living, breathing me (whatever that thing is), that the one that I am translating from is not someone who I could just call up and ask what they really meant by this, or maybe if they had another word they could give me for this, things like that. Like all that stuff from yesterday about men becoming caricatures of themselves, well, I guess picking up that old copy of Homer just sort of solidified that idea a little more to me, and especially the idea that I already am the caricature of myself. And as much as I'd like to think I'd be capable of change, that all of my ideas really just rest with this guy who's already dead, like I've got this old, Henry Darger-esque artsy hermit living in my head, and he's left all this stuff behind, and there seem to be ideas behind it, or behind some of it, but all I can do is just try to translate it, and guess what he meant to the best of my abilities because most of it is just the ramblings of a madman. And yeah, this is the condensed form of that morass in my head, if that gives you any idea of the complete mess that is up there.