Autumn 2017

dear future self,

I was on a bit of a hia­tus, rein­vent­ing things, ideation is the pre­ten­tious buzz term, one of many which I despise.

I nev­er real­ized that the Eng­lish lan­guage, already a wide­ly bas­tardized one as is, was so insuf­fi­cient that we need­ed to coin new words every so often just for kicks. Can we revert to sim­plic­i­ty and min­i­mal­ism in this ? If I need to car­ry a lex­i­con to under­stand what peo­ple are talk­ing about that’s pret­ty sad. Just use your words wise­ly, use time­less words not these here today, gone tomor­row ones. End rant.

I have approx­i­mate­ly 5 min­utes to write this and get out the door. The sun pierces the morn­ing, thank­ful­ly.

Sleep is a pecu­liar expe­ri­ence, I nev­er real­ly know if I’m half asleep in this world, or in the world we vis­it when we do sleep. It isn’t as deep as I would love, maybe because I’ve always been a noc­tur­nal type. Not by choice, my mind just becomes more at peace as night descends and peo­ple are wind­ing down from the chaos of the day. I don’t thrive in chaos as much as I once had. I’m not a mul­ti-tasker, nor an ambi­tious type, I’m very chill. Always have been, why get worked up ? What am I but a mere mor­tal man who can do only so much ? So if I’m of a sober mind it’s pret­ty appar­ent that there’s only x, y, z I can tru­ly accom­plish why would I spend and sac­ri­fice joy, peace, hap­pi­ness, and such for a zero return yield ? The farmer doesn’t toil the land for crops that don’t sell, and the day trad­er at the stock mar­ket doesn’t exhaust him­self sil­ly for the pure plea­sure of doing so. And nei­ther does this man kill him­self soft­ly with his song or his words try­ing to achieve too much all at once, try­ing to reach crit­i­cal mass by any means nec­es­sary.

Autumn is here, it’s final­ly kicked in, and tran­si­tion­ing into win­ter. There’s a ter­ri­ble melan­choly that comes when the sum­mer radi­ance fades and you for­got­ten what that felt like, that you craved it. It’s like a per­son miss­ing from your life that you can­not delete and pre­tend they nev­er exist­ed. I’m not as divorced from emo­tion as many strive to achieve, as if they had some kind of uni­ver­sal remote over their own emo­tion­al land­scape. If you want to add some gold guache, you start slow­ly. You don’t apply it all at once and you run out of it faster than you real­ize. Go and mix some more guache organ­i­cal­ly like the Ital­ian renais­sance mas­ters once did, yet in this instance I refer to speak­ing pos­i­tive and love over your­self and oth­ers, and learn­ing its appli­ca­tion, its process, its secrets.