I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Masters Of The Universe....
You know, I've wanted to get rid of this for a long time. I barely write anymore. Blogging's...what? A little bit of exercise and a lot of self-indulgence - or at least that's what it seems like I've been doing for the last six years or so. I've lost focus and have limited amounts of energy. It's hard to be witty and clever and to invite new people to read your smatterings when you're trying to regain or cultivate some of your vanishing spirit. I think that I should use the internet strictly as a tool and not as a vessel that's supposed to define me as a person. I'm really tired, man. What little energy I have needs to be saved and not spent on self destruction or stupid writing that goes nowhere.
I don't know. I know that I need to continue to work on my soul and work less at wasting my time - which this seems to be.
The enlightened buddhist would say to cast off my attachments and personal possessions.
Isn't this one?
One less thing to think about or to be a slave to?
Now that sounds like peace to me.
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Couldn't have said it better myself, Malone. Beautiful. Peaceful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Bored.
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