perhaps a thing or two to share with you
My body has been broken for a while. I used to be able to push through fairly easily. I thought things were bad before, but I was still ripping heavy weights above my head and jumping in all directions with such agility and ferocity. I could sprint. Now…my state is much worse and it’s frightening. It’s hard to know what fear is doing to my body, as in, what my mind manifests as self limitation. It’s all very confusing and complicated, or not at all and I make it that way. My mind feels juicy with creativity, but I am surely stuck. Bad habits have formed and I am gunked up in the muck. This is bearable though. Out of it I must try. Digital expression is doable and fun. I will use this place as a way to flex those creative muscles and hopefully it will bleed into other parts of my life and practice that once flowed so freely. Thanks for being here. Check back. This is a working, living, breathing version of my diary/scrapbook/portfolio.
I really enjoy singing and playing music. I want to do that more, or, maintain what I a currently have going on. Music has always been a central part of my creative life. Expression in the form of music often makes me cry.
I remember early on, when I first quit drinking. I was in band rehearsal for the first time after summer break. I had not played my clarinet since I quit alcohol. We were site reading new music and I could not believe how well I was able to read the music. My brain was firing my fingers. I had never done this so easily before. I cried. I don't know if anyone noticed I was. I've cried in rehearsal before, for other reasons. What a strange thing to cloud your vision with tears while reading music.
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Music can move me in a way that feels nearly unbearable. I savor the moments when it's nearly unbearable. Maybe that's part of having an addictive personality, or maybe that's just normal human stuff. It reminds me of how I feel about nightmares. I rather dream the most horrific and disgusting things than not dream at all...or maybe I'm just a sicko.
there is much to be ashamed of
why not just strew it all about?
I wish I could turn my thoughts into visual projections. My inner one man show on display.
I'll continue to obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess and obsess
A Practice
Lay in the tub. Pee. Feel the source with your finger. Tap it open and closed.
what themes will be revealed? what will be stoked? perhaps a reflection of embarrassment, a slick slime of self loathing. or a feeding of vanity - you got what it takes and they all know it.
