(no subject)
Yesterday I did something I don't think I've done since highschool. I sat down at my window, my window that faces the east, and I lit some candles, and I put The Smiths on repeat, and I inked a legal pad with every last drop of substance I could squeeze from my brain. This went on from 7:30 PM until midnight, when my phone rang. I can't say the finished product was cohesive, but the process was comforting, and afterward I felt somewhat relieved. I wasn't relived because I had just cleansed myself of the particular random thoughts my writing gave vent to, and I wasn't relieved because I'd worked out certain psychological dilemmas by licensing myself to indulge them. The important thing, is that I would still want to, still have the drive (to neurotically write) -- however uninspired and rusty this drive may be from not being privy to the timed and graded in-class essays of a highschool AP class for much longer than it takes for even the ghost after-presense of a trained skill to leave a person. Of course, the experience is cheapened when I note once again how much importance I place on the ego and its workings. Ego seduces me into attributing value to transient things -- which I guess makes my writing possible, yet on the flip side, my ego paves the way for my constant compulsion to analyze trivialities for my own entertainment regardless of how little benefit that energy yields. We create ourselves and our fates, or so it always illustrates in a variety of different ways in whose ever philosophy book you're reading at the time. The faculty, or 'chakra', you focus yourself through and into paints all the illusions. Shoddy way of saying it. What you hold in your heart and head prompts even your most insignificant actions (footsteps). Maybe the content doesn't prompt you toward realizing the goal felt in your mind (which would be said as 'aiding you to a the particular end you may have let yourself fancy'), but the specific things you internally harbor do take you somewhere --> (this is me proporting that if you held different things or nothing at all, you'd end up somewhere ELSE). But it seems you Can't Help but harbor what comes easiest and most naturally (passion vs. Work, perhaps), and so you may end up in places you won't like. So it is important to consciously keep the right things for yourself affixed in your heart and your head, and be ever vigilant that debris doesn't blow in and start accumulating like earwax that must be extricated. You must use preventative care, and clean often, so you do not need a syringe. So your sight (3rd sight*) isn't impeded. So you intellectual as it were do not end up in a psych ward because you're awake amist the wreckage. so you do not end up like you did that summer when you strolled with a friend in the park and pained at the emptiness behind your pot eyes, headache, torn meijers knee socks and odorless sneakers... anyway,