Slag, ruffians and patches of white dust

Topics: future, death, goals

2011-04-14

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.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

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