[From—Monday 20 February 2007]
I’ve been to this meditation thing tonight, and it’s Buddhist.
They say you don’t have to be Buddhist to go there, but I am afraid of being drawn into a Buddhist thing—I’m not strong.
I got incredibly angry while I was there, very rebellious—I didn’t let that out, but it was so much there.
I felt as though I could have wiped the floor with the lot of them.
I’m interested in the anger rather than what the evening was about. I haven’t time for all that. I’m just interested at how angry I could feel—and supercilious and—sneering.
We’re doing anger next week.
Went to Mother’s today. Can hardly write—mistakes I’m correcting all over.
I have a funny taste in my mouth (another). What is that? Funny taste.
What did this Buddhist thing stir up?
It was—put your right hand over your left—and I thought—why should I?—and put my left hand over my right, and that was when all the anger came out—and the rebellion. I don’t want to be told what to do.
The taste, at the moment, is like a herb in my mouth—basil—like strong basil.
[From—Tuesday 20 February 2007]
…I’m struggling with these notes from Auerbach and Lukács (who take a historical view of things). But I’m driven to complete them—to a point where I get some sense of satisfaction.
There isn’t the time to cover everything in the way I’d want, and it has made me realise what partial knowledge I did my degree on.
It’s awful, going forward on partial knowledge, hoping that what you say makes some sense—despite the fact that you feel you not only don’t know the basics for saying what you are saying, but also that there isn’t the time, anyway.
Despite the situation being this ridiculous, you are still required to produce.
You are proceeding on a wing and a prayer…
[From—Tuesday 27 February 2007]
It’s only half an hour into today, and I need to write to ensure I’ll sleep.
I’ve been out to the Buddhist thing tonight (well, it would have been Monday)—the Buddhism itself I find rather threatening. Again, I got angry and rebellious, despite the fact that it was about anger this week.
But I do need some sort of social outlet, you know.
Here, I just talk to myself, and to an imaginary friend, or reader…
I find myself struggling against the Buddhism, refusing it, questioning it. I resort to—you’re all stupid!—though I don’t say it.
But there’s this big blue sea, you see, and the thoughts are the waves on the top, and you go down so deep that it’s still, and there are no waves, and you find peace.
But I won’t do it.
‘Oh no!’ I think. ‘You’re not getting me down there!’
And I think of Carol’s face down there, as I imagined it once—bloated, drowned and dead.
And so I won’t go down.
And I’m wary of the sea, in any case, of course.
It is not peaceful for me, nor beautiful.
It is chopping and sharp.
And so I can’t do that meditation.
And I get angry.
And then there is a single-pointed thing—single-pointedness as though it’s a good thing.
But it’s a dagger, and it would stab me.
I am too honest, also.
I do not watch out for my own back enough.
I let them back me into corners…
I’ve been driven just about nuts today.
And there’s that awful Buddhism—that tells me my irritation is a form of anger, and that it’s coming from me, in fact, that I need to counter it with patience.
Also—the Buddhist—gosh, I hate him—did a meditation—I didn’t fully participate—in which he said we would all make a—pledge—something like that—to not get angry for the next twenty four or thirty six hours—I think he was giving us a choice, though I could say he couldn’t make his mind up.
And there seems to have been nothing but irritation and annoyance all day.
[From—Wednesday 28 February 2007]
Dentist—I’ve made a mistake with my ‘bite’.
My bite is not right.
I think to myself—can I wait for six months with a wrong bite?
Will it wear itself in?
I’m trying to put off going back.
But I would probably be wise to go back with this wrong bite, and get it made more right.
How are you supposed to be able to tell your proper bite when your lip is so numb that, when you look in a mirror later, you look as though you’ve had a stroke?
And I have to tell myself—don’t have a stroke!
A stroke is no answer to your problems!
And so, I’m left with a wrong bite, and if there is one thing I really need to be able to do, it is to bite…
Well—I’ve had no difficulty in staying awake long enough (in bed) to get to the point of requirement of tea and toast.
Unfortunately, my bite is terrible (I found when eating the toast).
How glad I am that I have gums on that left side—something to eat with if you’re stuck.