i wish that i could tell you, and i also do not give a damn about the fact that i do not know and that i can neither give you an answer, nor know why i am here, much less why you are here.
once upon a time, in a far far away reality, a man told me that my prose is arrestingly seductive. i laughed, not in his face, but i laughed at what to me then seemed such plain and undecorated flattery. i have yet to discover a graceful way of dealing with compliments or flattery. last week i got an e-mail from a reader of this kitchen sink outpour, and it made me think that perhaps my prose does seduce. perhaps, perhaps it does.
if you asked me what i came into this world to do, i will tell you: i came to live out loud. (Emile Zola)
yes the story seduces, drama seduces, swift little pirouettes seduce... my whole fucking life seduces!
still this morning, this very morning, i woke up seeking something else. it is the month of ramadan, it is the fasting month of ramadan, and it is time to get back to what is essential, and to surrender to the human condition. what was i seeking this morning when i left the house before 8 on the way to a crucial appointment? (that was friday past, that was my therapy session)
ah! the emperor needs new rules, the newest is that what i write on my filofax gets done. the electronic diaries serve other purposes, the planning purposes, but the filofax is imperative. i love imperatives, and i love residing in them. within all this mumble-jumble it occurred to me that there is one great myth about instant gratification and that very myth is about to be assaulted by the emperor. (what worked on friday, did not work on monday. monday i woke up somewhere in the outskirts of strasbourg...)
but here it is how i am feeling today: after the morning meal, my stomach is full, so is my head... i am tired of feeling tired. i am tired of feeling tired and wanting to climb trees and walk on the walls. i am tired of procrastination, i am tired of good excuses. am i tired, or am i impatient?
what has struck me recently is that i am awfully impatient. i am impatient and i look calm, i move slowly... and other times i am faster than light. go figure.
life is as right as ever, it keeps me busy pursuing my two challenges, writing and starting up a new company. in addition i have another project called "nursing egoism" that also takes me off-line quite a bit, blogging is light.
these are times when i take retreat to my cave, some people call it depression, others the blues, and for some odd reason, i call it "my insignificant and meaningless life". so, what is it like, this exciting life of mine?
it has elements of getting up at 5 in the morning, of conference calls at 10 in the evening, of iaido practice on monday evenings, of therapy sessions on a wednesday afternoons, of daily long hours with the mac getting one word after another out, one letter at a time, making mind maps on large pieces of paper representing the story that i am writing, the services of the company, or the wonders of my own existence. then it also has elements of weekends in italy, germany, czech, england, france or portugal.
why? you want to know why?
Technorati Tags: fluage, ultruism, undecided, unedited, unfocus
