Writer’s multivalent progress (aka diary of a writer’s block & my fervent dream of my great grandmother and her cattle)

I ran into what seems to be a daily writing routine of Henry Miller (American novelist, 1891-1980) on social media. I haven’t tried to verify (pardon, ahem, my job) if it really belongs to him. Despite this lack of insight, I wanted to thank whoever wrote it. Because I found a renewed sense of action…

I ran into what seems to be a daily writing routine of Henry Miller (American novelist, 1891-1980) on social media. I haven’t tried to verify (pardon, ahem, my job) if it really belongs to him. Despite this lack of insight, I wanted to thank whoever wrote it. Because I found a renewed sense of action and direction in this sort of how-to writing on writing. Let me share it with you and if you happen to be a Millerian (?) expert, send me an email please:

Mornings: If groggy, type notes and allocate, as stimulus. If in fine fettle, write.

Afternoons: Work of section in hand, following plan of section scrupulously. No intrusions, no diversions. Write to finish one section at a time, for good and all.

Evenings: See friends. Read in cafés. Explore unfamiliar sections–on foot if wet, on bicycle if dry. Write, if in mood, but only on Minor program. Paint if empty or tired. Make Notes. Make Charts. Plans. Make corrections of MS.

Note: Allow sufficient time during daylight to make an occasional visit to museums or an occasional sketch or an occasional bike ride. Sketch in cafés and trains and streets. Cut the movies! Library for references once a week.

“Cut the movies!” — what a radical technophobic Adornian suggestion! I will never agree with Mr. Miller on this point (Vive le cinéma, always!) But I liked most of the rest of what (he) said. Below are some of the photographic proofs:

I think one of the things I found most helpful with this suggestion is the outward-going dimension of writing. Writing is so much about externalizing–about going outside of yourself, about finding shapes, forms–languages–for the abstraction in one’s head. I wanted to get out. And I’m happy that I did.

I am very fortunate to have access to many amazing cultural resources in the Twin Cities. Today, I want to thank the Midway Contemporary Art (especially Megan and Candace) for welcoming me into their library space (which is open to public anyway. You never have to make a reservation or anything, just walk in!). I told Megan and Candace that I woke up with some fervent dreams and questions. I needed something to remedy this burning fever of curiosity–something like art references or words of wisdom by those who knew of the world before I did.

THE DREAM

Last night, I dreamed of my great grandmother herding the cattle across the Phu Phan Range in the Northeast of Isan region/plateau. How can I explain this dream when there is not yet any visual or epistemic references in this world we live in? How do I materialize this dream? (cc: Apichatpong Weerasethakul). when I woke up, I also could not stop thinking about the conversation I had with some of my relatives, just a few weeks ago, about a more recent familial history on my maternal grandfather side. Though I was well-aware that Udonthani (my mother’s hometown province) was the GI military base for the US Air Force during the American war in Vietnam and Lao, I didn’t think much about what roles my ancestor—both living and dead—had played in this war-torn reality and with regard to the American presence in the region. My mom’s uncle, who loves Rock n’ Roll and knows all the great American songs from the 60s-70s, said, “We grew up with American GI. I delivered the soldiers’ laundry. I used dimes, quarters and dollar notes. We felt rich even though we weren’t.”

Though the progress of writing the manuscript (Chimeric Cinema) seems to stall today, something else–a labor of birthing an understanding or translating a dream–has emerged in the process. There’s a triangulation of unexplored connections: cattle, Udonthani, the US and the place where I am right now. A day after the Lunar New Year, I’m here so far from that dream-place where my great grandmother herded the cattle, thinking about the maternal, ancestral presence–and perhaps, specters of those cows she may have killed to raise her family. Do they seek me in my dream to return to what they once were? Or, do I seek them because I need to return to whom, what, and where I was unaware of?

Above are some of the books Candace helped me locate. We never really write alone.

About Midway Contemporary Art, an upcoming exhibition that I’m most excited about is Karthik Pandian’s Surrender. If you are in the Twin Cities on that day, I’ll see you on the opening day (March 15, 2025). For our community here, please stay tuned for many other events that will accompany the exhibition. Some of us at the University of Minnesota will play a part in these events.

With gratitude and ardent dream,

Palita

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