I thought I was at peace but I don’t know what this is. I certainly couldn’t sleep now if I tried, but that might be other things, art things, acid things (red things, fried things). One thing that I certainly didn’t do today is RELAX, though this wasn’t maliciously not done, it wasn’t a purposeful sort of choice. I just sort of forgot. I guess that is telling? It might be, it might not. Understand the sort of day it was, but understand also that I certainly did have time.
It’s hard to put into words how neutral I feel. It’s strange. It’s peaceful, almost. Though I think that may be from missing sleep, it could also be from the tracks I’ve been playing, the mantras I’ve been repeating endlessly in my head. “Don’t”, “Forget about it”, and “If not that’s cool”. There’s also “That would be nice, but”, and it’s a sort of favourite, a way to justify all my wistful thinking, my wild imaginations.
It’s helpful, sure, but it’s too god-damn realistic. It doesn’t synch up right, somehow, there is no correspondence to chemistry.
Is this how regular people think? Is this how they keep in control? It’s terrifying.
A whole world of people told not to dream big, to be practical, to focus on the short term and only set reasonable, attainable, goals.
I just don’t see how life is possible in the sort of prison that that is, when you tell yourself to be “be cool” and calm that beating heart. It skipped twice today, in a way that was hardly recognisable. Work up some feeling, why don’t you! I like the crazy flips and wild, whirly trips home, reciting homemade poetry and walking on wobbly things, hands outstretched and perpendicular to the walls.
It could help with production. But all the genuises I know were sad, sometimes buoyed, sometimes not, always in some way eating themselves, turning their guts inside out; and anyway the best work is always inspired.