parpateticism
Parapateticism is about to reign again as I find myself northward bound. It's gypsy time, a time of so much great unknown, I'm attempting not to quiver at any little future monsters, any ideas of what MIGHT happen, and instead just let it be. I'm reluctant to write, but feel the urge to say, that I'm looking forward to work, hopefully something monotonous and physical so that I can do two jobs at once. Everyone who makes art has two jobs at once. Everyone who makes art is a loser until they "make it". This is not how I feel, of course, but what I observe, and it makes me feel like I'm playing a little game. Didn't some wise woman once tell me that if I could but view life as a game I would feel light and free? No one knows what you're doing in your head, and so you can always be working, always be creating on top of the external form that your life is taking at say your DAY JOB.
On the subject of said DAY JOB, a dear friend wrote "our patient lord has many other plans for us" and somehow this phrase was so comforting and bautiful, I think it was the word "patience" that was most attractive to me here, and so this one has stuck with me for use at many opportune moments.
So how to make my next move? You will know your next step from the step you are taking right now. I read that sentence over and over in one of my favourite books. I keep that sentence as the main weapon in my arsenal at the moment. And I've been outright denying myself, I've let myself get a little lost in past habits and have a lack of eyelashes to show for it. What I've been denying are the WORDS. Let's face it, I'm a wordie. I thought, what is the point of writing, what is the point of the novle, what is the point of the fucking poem or essay. Plays, I see a point to, because of their political abilities and so I've befriended the idea of stage again, though it is, for me, the most unfamiliar genre. But then I realised that there is nothing external in any of these attempts, they are all ESSAI's, and the point is really only to please myself. Though my thoughts are bungled and unclear, this is a symptom of me not taking the time to do what I need to do for myself. This has been a five month roller coast and it's time for me to take more responsbility again.
Though over these five months I beleive I have begun to learn how to be silent and still, and this has been a great gift.
On the subject of said DAY JOB, a dear friend wrote "our patient lord has many other plans for us" and somehow this phrase was so comforting and bautiful, I think it was the word "patience" that was most attractive to me here, and so this one has stuck with me for use at many opportune moments.
So how to make my next move? You will know your next step from the step you are taking right now. I read that sentence over and over in one of my favourite books. I keep that sentence as the main weapon in my arsenal at the moment. And I've been outright denying myself, I've let myself get a little lost in past habits and have a lack of eyelashes to show for it. What I've been denying are the WORDS. Let's face it, I'm a wordie. I thought, what is the point of writing, what is the point of the novle, what is the point of the fucking poem or essay. Plays, I see a point to, because of their political abilities and so I've befriended the idea of stage again, though it is, for me, the most unfamiliar genre. But then I realised that there is nothing external in any of these attempts, they are all ESSAI's, and the point is really only to please myself. Though my thoughts are bungled and unclear, this is a symptom of me not taking the time to do what I need to do for myself. This has been a five month roller coast and it's time for me to take more responsbility again.
Though over these five months I beleive I have begun to learn how to be silent and still, and this has been a great gift.