I am affected by a grave state of lethargy today. In this state, I wander aimlessly second by second towards my grave. I feel every missed moment is a tragedy, yet I cannot lift a hand to create.
Well, besides this drivel.
My mind stirred a few minutes ago whilst listening to The Only Unforgivable Thing by Marillion and urged me to awaken from my malaise, fire up Ardour and dredge from my right brain at least a sound collage. Instead, for whatever reason, the result is this collage of words, instead. I listened to Incoherence by Peter Hammill in the truck on the way back to Seminole from Andrews and my dinner with Sandy and it struck me (well, mostly the liner notes, to be truthful) as a template for the way I live and create.
I stumble through incoherence and organize bits of it into what I feel is meaningful. By this I mean the soup of my left brain organizes the chaos into a less daunting chaos.
I’m skipping around.
The Only Unforgivable Thing may just be the ability to develop something from only a thought or an intuition and the audacity to just let it sit, then fade to eventual oblivion.
I attempt to keep my ideas and dream of their fruition. It is the rationale for a journal, even a PocketMod. I jot. The jots usually do not become jitters, however. They sit and rot.
Does the river widen so markedly when approaching the delta? The spread courses drearily as opposed to rapid currents of youth. Focus! Focus!! Focus is lost with lethargy and age. It is more and more difficult to funnel all of the stray thoughts into coherence. Out of incoherence.
Do I second guess myself too often?
I used to not.
But, then again, much of my output when I was in my funnelling and focused years was hovno.
I have second guessed myself once again. I shall read.
