danlo mentioned somewhere about making Stephen an honorary member. Why don't you register him and put his (wonderful) writings as his own posts? If you're of a mind to, that is.

Moderators: deer of the dawn, Furls Fire
this has always struck me .. from when I first read it in LFB .. as so deeply profound. Steve gives these words incredible interpretation .. he has such an immense perpsective .. akin to SRD's TC .. TC seeing life through shades of his leperosy .. and Steve, his unique perspective through illness.Furls Fire wrote:"These are the pale deaths
which men miscall their lives:
for all the scents of green things growing,
each breath is but an exhalation of the grave.
Bodies jerk like puppet corpses,
and hell walks laughing –"
truly enlightened thought .. imho .. TC was ofcourse more than the sum total of his affliction .. but it was such an enormous ill .. it took him time to realise that. Steve has arrived at this awareness so much sooner. Yet how often society categorises people, labels them by illness. Its like illness robs individuals of their personas/ individuality even.Steve wrote:Ah, I still haven’t come to what this is trying to tell me. It just seems to play over and over in my mind. Pale death. Which men miscall their lives. This “miscall” is an interesting thought. Miscalling our lives. In essence, missing our calling. Dying in the waste of life. Did he do that? Waste his life? Did I? One could fly apart thinking about such things. Do we live just to die? Am I living with, or dying of AIDS? Is AIDS all I am? Like, leprosy was all he was? No. I am not just AIDS. I was more then that before, and I am more then that now. Just like he was not just leprosy. “Your knowledge of your disease made you wise.” Does it take a disease to give people special insight? Or is it there all the while, and is only drawn out by the onslaught of such trials?
I really feel so glad that you have decided to share Steve's thinking with us. I feel like I really want to know him and he is the kind of person that we can all learn from, I think. He has experienced a level of living and awareness that most can barely imagine ..The looks I get from them sometimes bring me to laughter. Ignorance and fear look funny on people.
I begin my inward folding
Forehead creased in the seam
of dawning inevitability.
I know I fail this incursion of self
This turning point imposed on me unaware
Perhaps if my attention were more diligent,
My resistance would prove to be well built.
And yet, I know the truth
The way of it, the cruelty of it
The steadfast rush of it.
Oh! I would rather be elsewhere!
Walking under the maple wood
In a nudity stripped down to sweet liberation
The sun-soaked health of undergrowth
Inviting me forward, enwrapping beauty
About me like catharsis.
Arms thrown wide to embrace in nakedness
The palliative, the cleansing antitoxin.
All former realities purged away.
Save me from such dreams!
The sodium onslaught of their light
Rubs and rubs my open wounds.
These imaginings torture my soul,
My core acceptance of defeat.
By degrees, I fold inward,
descend profoundly.
No miracle bequeathed to lift the man I am
freefalling into the infinite well of disease.
--Stephen C. McKinney
These were Steve's favorite books. Mainly because of Thomas Covenant. He was extremely well read, and enjoyed many other books and authors. But this set is what he always came back too.this has always struck me .. from when I first read it in LFB .. as so deeply profound. Steve gives these words incredible interpretation .. he has such an immense perpsective .. akin to SRD's TC .. TC seeing life through shades of his leperosy .. and Steve, his unique perspective through illness.
Steve wrote:"Even the blind can see this light, what a glorious passing this is."
Welcome, Lorin!lorin wrote:I know this is an older post but it is brand new to me. this is an amazing thread with some really amazing people. as a new member it staggered me and brought me to tears. it reminds me of the value of every moment we share with one another as well as the time we share with ourselves. Stephen was an amazing writer and i am glad you shared it with everyone.
Oh goodness, many here have wanted me to do that very thing, and I keep tossing the idea around in my head. But the truth is, I just don't have the time required to do it. The big thread has slowed way down over the last couple of years because I haven't been able to devote as much time to it as I used to be able too. Putting all of his journals and poems, over 22 years of them, into some kind of book or anthology form just seems so overwhelming. Maybe one day...when all the kids are grown, and it's just Russ and I, and the house is empty and quiet...I can think about doing that.lorin wrote:thank you and i hope to read an anthology of his work some day.
i think it is not only his very poignant writing but also who responded to it and how they responded that is such a clear sign of the depth of his writing and how it affects others.Furls Fire wrote: Welcome, Lorin!![]()
It always thrills me to see new people read Stephen. This thread was just the beginning, have you delved into the big one yet? It can be a bit daunting at over 50 pages and 1100 posts (which still floors me). I'm so happy you found them.
Again...Welcome to Stephen's litte corner of the Watch, Lorin!!! Well met!!![]()
I don't know how far you've gotten in the big thread, so I'm not sure if you know about Isaiah yet. He lurked here for about 6 or so months back when I first started posting Stephen's journals. During that time, I posted a story in here in the Hall, which prompted Isaiah to finally post. Well, long story cut very short...it turned out that he was also in full blown AIDS and Stephen literally spoke volumes to him. He became a very dear friend to alot of us here on the Watch. Isaiah was so alone, rejected by his family at a very young age because he was gay, he never really knew what love was, until he started reading Stephen. I brought him...well maybe "brought" isn't the right word...I basically made him come and live with our family until he passed. He was only with us a short time, but he touched us all in so deeply. And I believe to this day, that I was meant to post Stephen's journal entries so Isaiah would come out from lurking. Isaiah passed knowing what love was, and that brings me so much joy.Lorin wrote:i think it is not only his very poignant writing but also who responded to it and how they responded that is such a clear sign of the depth of his writing and how it affects others.
It's like he reaches in and just plucks out the deepest part of me. I'm unable to read his poetry and his journals without feeling like I'm being kicked in the teeth. He speaks the truth about AIDS and it's so raw and hits me so hard. I'm living now what he lived through. And I'm so damn scared of it. I only hope I can be half as strong as he was when I'm facing the end.Stephen McKinney wrote:I begin my inward folding
Forehead creased in the seam
of dawning inevitability.
I know I fail this incursion of self
This turning point imposed on me unaware
Perhaps if my attention were more diligent,
My resistance would prove to be well built.
And yet, I know the truth
The way of it, the cruelty of it
The steadfast rush of it.
Oh! I would rather be elsewhere!
Walking under the maple wood
In a nudity stripped down to sweet liberation
The sun-soaked health of undergrowth
Inviting me forward, enwrapping beauty
About me like catharsis.
Arms thrown wide to embrace in nakedness
The palliative, the cleansing antitoxin.
All former realities purged away.
Save me from such dreams!
The sodium onslaught of their light
Rubs and rubs my open wounds.
These imaginings torture my soul,
My core acceptance of defeat.
By degrees, I fold inward,
descend profoundly.
No miracle bequeathed to lift the man I am
freefalling into the infinite well of disease.
--Stephen C. McKinney
If I could, right at this moment, I would wrap my arms around you and just hold you tight, so the fear would not be so overwhelming. I, too, know what is to come. And as God is my Witness, I pray everyday that AIDS be ended and that all of you who suffer from it be set free of it.Alex wrote:It's like he reaches in and just plucks out the deepest part of me. I'm unable to read his poetry and his journals without feeling like I'm being kicked in the teeth. He speaks the truth about AIDS and it's so raw and hits me so hard. I'm living now what he lived through. And I'm so damn scared of it. I only hope I can be half as strong as he was when I'm facing the end.Stephen McKinney wrote:I begin my inward folding
Forehead creased in the seam
of dawning inevitability.
I know I fail this incursion of self
This turning point imposed on me unaware
Perhaps if my attention were more diligent,
My resistance would prove to be well built.
And yet, I know the truth
The way of it, the cruelty of it
The steadfast rush of it.
Oh! I would rather be elsewhere!
Walking under the maple wood
In a nudity stripped down to sweet liberation
The sun-soaked health of undergrowth
Inviting me forward, enwrapping beauty
About me like catharsis.
Arms thrown wide to embrace in nakedness
The palliative, the cleansing antitoxin.
All former realities purged away.
Save me from such dreams!
The sodium onslaught of their light
Rubs and rubs my open wounds.
These imaginings torture my soul,
My core acceptance of defeat.
By degrees, I fold inward,
descend profoundly.
No miracle bequeathed to lift the man I am
freefalling into the infinite well of disease.
--Stephen C. McKinney
Thank you Tracie.