Alright, second attempt and I’m already slowing down. This is not good, but I can do it. I can try to do it, and do it I will, so I’m doing it. I’m doing it; I’m doing the writing and the writing is being done, but maybe the writing is doing me and I merely think I am doing the writing. If that is indeed the case, then what am I to do? Where am I to go? There is nowhere but to the left and down, and sometimes up. Maybe to the right. It is difficult to discern during these troubling times, in which trouble is troubling and yet I’m yet to know what lies ahead. Yet.

That is a word. These are more words.

Yeah, this one is going to be a struggle, but what can I do? Sure, I could write something a bit more coherent, but if I do that, then what am I to do? I’ll have to throw my hands up and admit that I’ve lost, and if I’ve lost, then how can I win? How can I find my way back to the surface, where all the delicious delectables lie? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, and this is a real conundrum.

Sometimes when I find myself in this kind of situation, I go on a journey. I go through a journey through memory and I see what comes forward. Today I would do that; however, I already have done that and there was nothing. My memory does not want to work and so I need to put in the work and I need to use the forbidden power of… imagination.

Yes, that is how dire things are.

I could write about real life in an imaginary way, but the thing is there’s been enough hurt in my life. I don’t want to write about that right now. I’d rather let those thoughts sit to the side and wait it out until they;re a bit more tempered. I want to leave that to the side and just spin things that are new, or old, and spin them in a way that reads fantastically. This space has been far too frequently about my personal life, anyway, and especially recently. I don’t want to do that right now. I just want to spin what comes forward and let it come forward, and then ride it out to wherever comes next, and then go there, and spin this whole new world that exists that is of my creation, and I have ideas! I have ideas and don’t let yourself be fooled into thinking otherwise, for they are ideas of the thought of variety. They have come to me as I have conjured them, and they are all mine and they are mine alone! Laughter here.

So anyway, I’m thinking about things and I’m thinking about my stomach, which is quite upset, and I want to know how I get the things forward. I want to know how I advance into this forbidden power of which I am so mercilessly possessed, for it is there but it has been locked away for far too long. Have I let go of my innocence and given myself a healthy dose of cynicism? Have I given myself to cynicism and pessimism far more than I initially thought? It is possible. It is possible that doing this for so long has been incredibly damaging to my ability to write, and if so, then I don’t know what to do with myself. I guess I find another way forward, or no way forward and just keep digging the spot that I am on, going down but going nowhere, and that would be an interesting exercise.

I think I’ve spoken about this before, but perhaps I am far too stuck in the rut to notice. Every time I think I dig away I end up at the same spot, and that is as good a reason as any to try and force my hand out, but sometimes the process needs to be gradual. Sometimes the process need not be beset by getting dumped, but you know. You do what you can when you can, where you can with what you can. And I am doing what I can. However, writing this is not indulging in imagination and therefore it is trash.

I have written more trash than I haven’t written trash. This is the condition in which I revel, and revel in it I do thusly. Is this good? Is this bad? I don’t know. I don’t care. I need to just get on with it, and getting on with it is a way with getting on with it. But I do need to keep working on progressing and learning, for if I don’t, then I am not growing. I know I can tap back into my imagination. I know that I can pull out what lies in there, and I know that I can find the cracks and break through the tedium to produce some truly legendary crap, but I can also break through the cracks and produce something that really is some interesting fiction from the imagination, but that takes time and it doesn’t necessarily come forward until well after it is created and put out there. I need to bear that in mind. If I don’t, then I can fall prey to my own ego and then I’d start eating myself, and I’d rather not. I’d rather just keep on going and try to find where everything lies and pick it all up and start again., and here is where I should do that. I don’t know if it will be here. Maybe it will be over there. However, it will happen… maybe.

But maybe is a possibility. It might not read as well as I’d like, that word, but it is a possibility, and with possibility there is chance for success, and there is chance for growth and learning. One has to be willing to fail, but one also has to be willing to succeed where they can. Success can induce fear, or rather, the idea of it can. I mean, I’m sure that success also can induce fear, but the idea of it is what I’m talking about here. You know, the “what if” of it, and I don’t know why that can cause hesitation and lead to failure through inaction, but it can. And maybe I’m telling on myself here more than I’d like.

I know that last year I realised that I might just be afraid of success, and I don’t know why. I am yet to be successful. Okay, maybe that’s why. However, I have a strong feeling that that’s why there’s a lot of things I’ve started and not finished, because they show promise and then I put it down and go elsewhere. Of course there are other reason, but this is something that I think is worth considering. And it is something that I am going to work on stopping, because if I don’t, then that’s that, really.

Now this was meant to be a silly bit of writing and I’m failing at that, or I’m succeeding at failing. I don’t know. I think I’d like to know, but maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe I’d rather keep it at not knowing, but I don’t know. But anyway, I was hoping to delve into rambling incoherently, or perhaps even some fiction, but apparently neither of those are happening and so I need to do what I can with what I have. If I don’t, then what next? Where do I go?

Maybe I should go sit on a bench. That is something I haven’t done in a while; not in a park, at least. I should go sit and rest and let myself rest properly, then move on and go to wherever. Do some hard thinking. Think deeply, or at least trick myself into believing that I am thinking deeply. I could do that. Not sure if it would offer much of anything other than me telling myself that I am deep and complex, but really I am no more complex than anyone else. We are all pretty simple creatures who are good at deceiving ourselves with our delusions of grandeur, even if we don’t believe that they are, for they often are and they are deceiving, and this is something that e need to work harder on destroying.

Sure, some people will say something about ego death through acid, but not everyone does that and there are other ways to dismantle and rebuild ourselves, and it need not be done in such a violent way. It doesn’t need to be done with a sudden smack and then have ourselves left to pick up the pieces and recombine them in a way that fits. It can be a journey without substance-based assistance. It can be done many a way, and I don’t think people think about this enough.

If you spend your life learning and growing, and you are generally open to it and genuinely open to being wrong as well as learning from being right, then you do grow as a person. Being right but being humble about it and not a smug asshole is a good way to learn. But there are plenty of ways of learning, and we need to make sure that our biases aren’t telling us we’re learning something when we’re not. Easy mistake to make, and there are plenty of them out there that we can hit on the way to wherever.

So… yeah. I think that makes sense. Or it doesn’t. But we must fight the great ego monster that the collective unconscious keeps summoning as though to torment and delude ourselves, for some reason. We are far too willing to tell ourselves things that just aren’t true, and of course there are plenty of truths out there and there are plenty of forms of what is true, but this is something we must be aware of. We are willing to hurt our learning too much and too often, and we keep on doing it, and what for? Why do we keep on doing these things?

I think about this not enough, to be honest. I don’t think about about why we refuse to learn at times, and I need to bear that in mind. I need to bear in mind a lot of things and I need to check my own self, too. I need to make sure that I keep learning and growing, and maybe that’s why the possibility of fear of success hurts me a bit, I think. Because it’s something that I’ve not considered for a while, and maybe it worries me a little as it it might say something about me that I don’t want to hear, but I need to face it. I need to face it sooner or later, so I try to face it sooner. It’s not a place where I can go using imagination (well, I can, but I don’t necessarily think it would be the best thing to do when I’m trying to figure something out that could be critical to my own growth), and so I must go in seriously. I must go in with intent and be willing to be hurt and afraid and wrong, and right, and I need to keep on growing from there. And everyone out there needs to keep on growing, too.

No one person gets out of life alive, and the best we can do is try to leave things in a bit of a better state. We don’t do that, then who are we? Who are we to make the claim that we did the best we could when we kept the best we could far away? How can we claim we did enough when we didn’t bother? So we try and try again.

19:36:99

Decent time and all that, and this really was unnecessary. However, I like that it kept moving. I like that what came forward kept moving and changing. It followed my thoughts and didn’t stick to just one thing and really dig in on the repetition, though there is plenty of that.

Written at home.