Get used to indifference to your causes. Only a few will care about you, so get down on your knees and show them some deference. Take them to coffee if your knees have bummed out. Get used to relocating, if your bank accounts aren’t impenetrable. If you have enough money for food and shelter, you can still survive. Relocate your spirit toward adventure. Nesting is for the birds! Get used to tornadoes or find a stronger vine and hang on for dear life. Some of us like to spin around for dear life! Unless our homes are anchored, man, we gotta keep flapping our wings and be ready. Get used to extremity. A good way to start is in the shower. Turn hot to cold and back to hot. This is good for your chakras. This is good, the shock. Get used to it.
Journal # 05.31.16 The mercury climbed to triple digits yesterday, and i went to see a film with a friend. My car was black and when i got back it had melted. The movie was about human relationships and all the actors cast as themselves. One of them died on screen so we could get our money’s worth. Well he was killed. You were talkin to me in the parking lot and i was too shy to ask if we could take it to the sidewalk, so i stood there mindless holding my breath. I had no money left and the sun cooked my car. We could not decide if we were happy or not that the actor got murdered. Because it was a movie, we paid so we could weigh human lives like gods. Yet we had no say on the thermostat, and alternated from too hot to too cold and back. I was worried we would be hushed cause you kept talkin during the film and i shoulda hushed you myself but you were too goofy to be hushed. I coulda died in the dam parking and bled sno-caps for all i cared.
i am quite certain these past 6 days my subconscious made possible. of mostly lying around sick with headaches and sore throats and cough and cold symptoms and fatigue and a little asthma. coming out of it now, slowly. i was full of worry and fear beforehand, an impoverished mentality to which i was bound, i must confess, most of which has now fallen under and been buried by the malaise of the body. i believe that without the opportunity of ill health, i may have remained indefinitely in that inextricable place i had gotten myself into unwittingly through my routine. a non-creative place. a linear establishment. a far cry from freedom and flexibility. of course my WIP fell to the wayside. i still have not settled back into Book Three. but this time i am no longer so worried about it nor fearful. part of the trap i fell into was reading contemporaries in my genre and comparing myself against them. this is only a part of the story of my missteps of late. sacrificing momentarily the appeal of my style which not only draws me but has drawn me some onlookers from faraway places. my style which must be enough on its own. the fullness. the fulfillment. all of that is there, waiting for me still, calling me back like sirens, like songs, like dreams, like love.