141 pages and I feel I’m done with my masters project. The project reads quickly and engages the matters of life with lyrical precision. Genres and styles are disfigured in the stories’ evolutions. Poetry becomes Life. I can find no other way to describe my project other than to say this: fragments in time become their own being. The enormity of emotion overwhelms in a very precise and courtly disruption, constantly breaking, falling.
I don’t feel there’s a grand, over-reaching narrative tone or style. I do feel there’s a series of stories and fragments.
By themselves they’re nothing. Perhaps. Together they become something clearer, Perhaps something stronger: Creations in Time. Most, if not all, of everything is formed around real events, persons, and experiences. I’ve done my best to account for an honesty and bluntness that conveys.
The project is a metafictional, semi-autobiographical, lyrical, sometimes surrealist distortion of reality. What I wish to write is sometimes what is most difficult to write. What I wish to convey is sometimes what is most impossible, save embarrassment: loneliness, unhappiness, a crushing need for understanding, love, feelings of inclusion .
Through language and its many forms the project constantly breaks, constantly disrupts, constantly becomes something foreign, yet familiar: Versions of myself I wish to renew, sometimes discontinue, destroy.