Gary Rinsem


All My (unfinished) Books
1985

Books in the works by 1985

I wrote very little after 1986, when I got out of the Navy. It was a different story while in the Navy. I wrote a number of short books, each 100 to 150 handwritten pages. I enjoyed doing it and the women the stories were for, enjoyed reading them. I got too ambitious. I planned a series of serious books that I was unable to complete. That's the cause of lament in what I wrote below. I still believe I could have written them, it just required more time than I ever had available. It would have made me very happy to hear from readers that my words made a lasting impression on them. Don't let yer pin get rusty, read Delight if you get the chance. It's one small part of my web site.

Three lamented lost desires, each a book never to be written.



- The Definition Of Intimacy -
This is the most tangled mess of an idea imaginable. If written it could do as the title suggests, define intimacy in such a complete manner that the book would be on every bookshelf in the world.



- The Most Important Corner -
A book about love without bounds, its a cute and free spirited group biography. It would be boring to anyone not a resident of "The Corner," and pornographic to many more.



- The Story That Can't Be Written -
Too psychedelic to be comprehensible. It's fun to read, but it takes a special mindset to follow along. Trippy is an understatement as unrelated literary imagery paints a picture of a mental state, which can be experienced but not defined. You'll see it if I post what's written, but will you understand?



Two more begun but not yet done.

- What Color Is Red -
A book about the basics of deep intellectual intimacy. About a hundred pages done, with another two hundred to go. It won't be finished. I don't have the skill to do it justice. I stopped working on it when I realized it wasn't good enough, and I have no idea how to make it better so I'm calling it done anyway. The plan was to begin boring to some degree and build throughout with a style of increasing complexity. It results in a crescendo of pure thought when the concepts are joined together in the last chapter. That's the plan, but who can write it? My attempt falls flat in chapter four.



- Delight -
A book about many things and only one thing. Confusing as hell to read yet a joy to write. I wrote much of it several times, each in a very different manner. Only those who'd experienced Delight were ever able to follow the basics in the book, regardless of the manner in which I presented the book's psychedelic concepts. Since I was twenty-four, and began this book, I've learned that It takes a special mind to experience Delight. Also, as people get older they mostly give up on hopes and dreams and the intellectual matters of a life lived fully. That happens for most in their early twenties. It makes me sad for them.



Together as a set, these books were intended to be a statement about life. To answer the mother of all questions and incite intellectualism in the reader. If it worked as intended it would suppress the reader's base to a very contented smile. Instead of writing these, I spent the years hiding from sorrow. I had no choice. I still have no choice. Give in to the sorrow and what passes for a life will be nothing but tears. It wasn't even a compromise, it was the only option.