The only thing I've been good at lately is feeling absent. And eyeballing pounds and half-pounds of dry Virginia ham. I've been trying to take my mind off of the things I can't do, won't do, by teaching myself how to play harmonica. I haven't gotten very far; I still can't isolate single notes, but I hope to be Bob Dylan one day.
I've been thinking a lot about art lately and coming up with ideas for exhibitions that I have no way to finance, nor will I ever, but they make me feel like I'm still capable of contributing something refreshing to the world, which is to say, better.
I've been thinking a lot about love lately and what it means and if there is a right way in and is it even productive to think of it in these terms of right and wrong and isn't love antithetical to our nature and how I might transcend this nature and how stupid it is to try to define it. I hate how repulsive gray areas are to my mind. This makes me think I chose the wrong field.
I've been getting into letter writing lately. If anyone wants a handwritten letter of my psychobabble, let me know. Letters are a good way into important thought processes.
If this ramble seems whiny and down, it's because I'm in a rare trough. My life has been mostly ups for a long time now, but I've finally reached a much-needed crash.
No comments:
Post a Comment