It’s pretty painful for me to lose a thought before I can write about it. I’m sure one would have a hard time believing all the brilliant things that come into my mind when I’m away from paper and pen. Sometimes they come to me while I am working and therefore I can’t even take my phone out and text them to myself. Thoughts are often fleeting like the seeds of a dandelion when I make a wish. Unlike misery, beautiful thoughts are difficult for me to retain. And to make matters worse I believe I may have lost a little bit of trust in the page. I sense that our relationship has become somewhat estranged. I’ve been meditating about the past more often. I’ve been involved in several conversations that have ended with me rambling on about my past. Perhaps I’ve been trying to replace my craft with an actual person. Instead of using human beings as my muse to create more art I’ve started to join them in all of their social activities and verbal communication. This could mean no good for a writer.
I feel my life getting better. My goals are beginning to become more visible. So I suppose that’s why I’ve fallen off the scene as an artist. I haven’t been to a reading in months and old manuscripts remain unfinished. I think about the ever-growing conflict between my artistic ambitions and my professional endeavors. I liken it to the war between my own carnal lust and my spiritual well-being. Everything is sacrifice. Everything is balance. Money, sex, heaven, peace, climax, rage, passion, judgment, poverty, shame, success, failure, depression, cultural death…and I oscillate between these themes of life as if I still haven’t got a clue. For I know where I want to go but at times I become confused as to how to get there. I can sense myself getting closer but one can never be too certain. At the moment life is still very perplexing, however, I am adjusting to it. I do sincerely love my life and I cherish all those who love me. Life, as ill-defined as it is, is so good. I’m blessed, I’m alive, and I will never be destroyed.