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Reflection from July 5th, 2013 @ Age 32

RE:  EMOTIONAL INSANITY — USED PURPOSEFULLY, TO BLOCK OUT THE POTENTIALITY FOR CLEAR VISION AMONGST THE HUMAN RACE.

As you can see, I attempted writing on July 3rd.  Didn’t happen.  I’ve been having all these beautiful thoughts in my head, but I’m afraid to sit down and try to write them out, because I’m afraid they will escape me and then the loss I will feel will be far worse than any loss I will feel by shopping too much, or cleaning too much, or baking too much, or smoking too much, or working out too much (well, that one’s debatable), but you get my point.  So here’s what I’ve been thinking, this morning at least, I’ll give it one shot:

I was thinking, my goodness, how doesn’t it suck not to have any money!  I mean, I think by most people’s terms in all fairness, it would probably be safe to say that for most people, they would see having more money as a good thing and not a bad.  I know how the opposite is true.  I don’t really feel like getting into it and explaining the whole thing to you right now, but rest assured — if you are an individual like me, an “outlier” it has been said — then it is not such a horrible circumstance to find oneself in, without having any money.

Later

Well anyways, I’m sitting out here on the porch by myself, smelling the disgusting ashes of my old cigarettes (gotta move those soon, but perhaps good reminder for now), and trying ohh so desperately not to go out and buy cigarettes because another pack means starting all over again and I just don’t know that I want to do that to myself.  What I really want is to just start clean and fresh.  But I’m growing tired now so on to only what is essentially important.

Somebody just came by on the sidewalk and said to me, “did you ever see somebody walk a cat?”  And I obligingly laughed and said “no”.  It was stupid.  I don’t even know how to explain the absurdity of life.  I think that’s what’s so agonizing about the life of an artist.  To convey that the beauty is in the madness is almost nonsensical to these others, who see only order and mass production and perfection, perfection, perfection.  The way I see it, and I know I’ve touched on this before, but the way I see it is that we are merely ants marching unless and until we rise above it all.  I want to rise above it all.  But I’m on this path that tells me neither where it is going, when I will get there, if I will even get there, and if there is even a there to which I am heading.  I am once insane, and then again, the rest of the world too, is at once insane.  And so people, in my humble opinion, I think the one conclusion I can come to tonight is that all people are insane and though in different ways yes, all insane nonetheless — and that enough, that one lit-tle teeny tiny similarity between us all is large and great enough to bring us all back together again.  I’ll tell you more what I mean later.  I’m tired now.