swimming in a sea of threads

i have no choice but to make the thing whole

of course it will not happen; i will keep writing, changing, growing away from who i used to be, and this skeleton of words will be available for any reader including me (since i return to my own work as a stranger and wonder, who wrote that? what is that?)

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thinking about silence, nature, agency, choice, midlife, consciousness, and what to do with my life, my time, my knowledge and experience, reputation, possibilities—this sounds like a bio I have written a million times, or a list of skills and interests I’d draw up from scratch when looking for a job, i.e. an escape from insecurity, an appeasement to my mind that’s always analyzing myself like I assumed others were (father, society, the world, Facebook friends, peers—funny how easily I survived, looking back on the last 10 years, feeling no pain, no regret, just laughing and knowing I have another restart with the benefit of hindsight and knowing what won’t save me

nice little vignette solo of self-awareness and light wisdom generation there! could that be enough? enough to deserve to stay alive; yes, creativity leads to political questions about making a living, and investigating the root cause of pain on the planet and in my mind (same thing? Probably; the outer is the inner; there is no reality, there is only projection and inference, assumption…idiocy

i am willing to chalk this up to practice

there is nowhere to go be redeemed for any of this; i never needed a listener; i was fine on my own; the future is alone

what would be nice is a sauna, a sweat lodge of some kind, a place to meet the others who are also diving into their solitudes alone in a room—a monks’ abbey perhaps is where I am suited, I wonder if I will somehow earn enough money from excavating my soul to live in a city again; I wonder how money will appear, where my work and what is paid for intersects, and if it isn’t my duty and fate to struggle, to pull the world toward me, to rearrange it in my image (like so many men alone at computers)

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Geoffrey Lewis

filling the blinking cursor with whatever comes up, letting the leviathan lead me to glory, singing popular music covers on video on Smule too, speaker, rambler