Ringo, Roundo, Rosey, Posey
July 18th, 2004
I should do something different. I've got this powerful feeling that doing the same thing right now, at this instant, would be a serious mistake.
So far, I've mostly used this journal-type area to talk about things I've been thinking and stuff that I add to the site. Sometimes I guess that's important; like when I lost my job painting, I really needed to get that crap off of my chest. It was actually one of the more gratifying feelings I've ever experienced.
But that's not really why I want this journal to be here. I want it to be a place for me to store energy -- you know, a place to throw ideas, or just excess brain activity. Sometimes one feels like one must find a space and fill it with unmitigated drive. Destroy what was there and build something that burst forth possibly of its own will. Maybe fix it a bit, pretty it up, draw boxes around things, do it up all nice -- but only as much as you want, and only as much as you have patience for.
Which reminds me, I seem to have only patience for gliches. Just a special kind of will to sit stuck between ideas and activity. I just want to think of something -- and then after thinking of it, I'm done. I'm gone and the fingernail has been clipped. It's off, but not really done. Only done in some imaginary potential universe. Almost like I'm sitting around spawning quantum universes like crazy. There's different possible outcomes spurting forth from my head like an orgasm's payload firing off somewhere far away and taking all the pleasure with it.
