i want nothing more than to wander. and maybe some pizza.
a danger comes to a writer once he is aware of his audience. the temptation to sensor oneself becomes imminent. even now, in my decision to always be honest (consequences be damned) i wonder if i am on some subliminal level covering up things. being unknowingly deceptive.
"there is no such thing as an honest autobiography"
something like that. i have that written down somewhere. i think it was nietczhe.
all of that said. i dont know how, or even if, to tell the story of recent happenings.
some things just may be to good to share on such an impersonal space.
plus, there is something about verbalizing emotions that make them concrete and definite.
at the present i prefer all of what i am experiencing to be fluid. alive. i dont want to box in anything. nor do i want to follow the human tradition of labeling, defining, naming everything.
some things, most things, are best left free, mysterious, scary, unknown.
box = expectation
expectation = dissapointment.
everything important happens automatically.
i hope so anyways.
all of this to say that:
life is full of potential.
i received a great gift last night.
i am excited to see what takes place.
11:11 a.m. - 2005-05-30
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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