Anais Nin

I like to read and recently discovered Anais Nin.
All I have to say is: If she were alive today she would probably be a good friend of mine if I met her.
She thinks like me (a little). You can tell from her writing. (Let me put a little disclaimer...one part of me thinks like she thinks)
This is an excerpt from "The House of Incest" (not totally what it sounds like).

"The muffled, close, half-talk of soft-fleshed women. The men she had embraced, and the women, all washing against the resonance of my memory. Sound within sound, scene within scene, woman within woman -- like acid revealing an invisible script. One woman within another eternally, in a far-reaching procession, shattering my mind into fragments, into quarter tones which no orchestral baton can ever make whole again."

Wow! I highly recommend "The Diary of Anais Nin".
Here is an excerpt from the early diary:

"December 29, 1927 - And yet whenever women find an emptiness in their lives they don’t seek the cause of it within themselves, in their spiritual and intellectual life; no; they seek a man, they turn destructively upon the husband as if he were to blame, upon the children.

They turn to mere physical sensation, to base deception---I can’t understand. . . I realize that I am now doing nothing but fulfilling dreams, nothing but materializing images, using my will to make all my desires tangible.

Of course, I never dreamed all that I am doing. When I was younger I imagined my dancing, my writing and marriage, though not quite like the real one, which surpasses the conceptions of a child.
My imagination has been my lamp......


Every day I feel surer of myself, my desires soar higher. I feel power in myself, conviction. If it is conceit, a vast empty bubble of vanity, an illusion as false as my old modesty was false; if I am deceived intellectually, by the fireworks of my life, if its ascension is the ascension of self-glory; if there is no spiritual value and philosophical significance to my life, then there is no truth and no sincerity in this world, because no woman ever looked down into herself with as much cold criticism, no woman ever analyzed her ideas and actions more carefully, none was ever more doubtful of herself, more self-deprecating, more fearful of hypocrisy, more terrified of lies, more eager for truth, than I. You, my Journal, alone, know that."
Wow...I know I relate sometimes to this. But this is not totally me. There is really little Christian element in her writing at all. I don't think there needs to be really, but she writes or wrote a lot of erotica, and for the time that she wrote, her stuff was kind of explicit. I really like her style though.
Anais Nin...Even her name is great.
Hugs
M