The scream of me as a human has probably become so loud, that it irreversibly damaged my literary texts, that the products can no longer stand on their own, because I keep pushing myself to the fore out of necessity.
I suspect longer, not to publish a novel, but a publishable human.
Of course I can still try, all diary entries, to delete all purely biographical sludge from the website, I can try, until the year 2017 back afterwards to make a compilation, which only includes the strictly literary products.
The literary texts cannot be taken seriously, because their transition into the personal diary style is fluent. But what will that change?? My literary handwriting is unmistakably me, ein Mühlstein, with which one sinks, if you let yourself in for it.
Nevertheless, if you take it seriously, one would have to read the literary texts, at least, publish, to separate her from me. This would have a positive effect on my personal screams, it would give me more body, more country, give more space!
As it is, however, my literary works are soiled by physical and psychological misery, through my many years of isolation and psychological neglect, that may threaten everyone, that long enough, over decades, lived alone in a room.
Kaspar Hauser was hidden in a shack. The unnatural way of life made him obdurate, not sociable and lovely. Carlos was poisoned by solitary confinement. He became the criminal, criminal, that they made of him.
A lot depends on chance. But the longer a forced solitary confinement (also by a serious illness such as myalgic encephalomyelitis) lasts, the harder it gets, to keep the light and to remain an affable person, also for others.
I'm on point, to lose that affinity.
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The website is structured like this, that I mix everything up motley; die literarischen Arbeiten, die Daires, die Schreie, die Selfis. Für mich ist dies nicht befriedigend.
Für mich wäre es natürlich, zumindest zwei Werke bei einem Verlag herausbringen zu können, weil das Schreiben dieser Werke meine langjährige Arbeit war, meine Investition, wie für einen Andern das Bauen von Häusern. Diese Häuser können nie fertig gestellt werden, wenn niemand einzieht.
Not, um Geld zu verdienen, sondern um die Arbeit abtrennen zu können von meinen Körper, brauche ich eine Publikation.
Ich habe aber keinen Zugang zu Verlagen, eben aus den Gründen, die ich oben erwähnte: eine zu lange andauernde psychische und menschliche Verwahrlosung durch eine physische Erkrankung mit Funktionsniveau, das die Teilhabe nur sporadisch ermöglicht, in der Regel aber vernunmöglicht.
I always thought, dass die Not ein Garant ist, um der Kunst ein Gewicht zu geben, eine Substanz.
Und nun stellt sich heraus, dass dies nicht toleriert wird.