The only things worth doing are probably the things that set you so free that you feel trapped by them. As if you're going to pale and wither if you don't do them, and you lose sleep, and you forget to eat, and you start to feel as if you're at the bottom of well where the light comes down and shines on the ground right next to you, but never sheds its grace on your face. Like you can't quite put your hands on it.
Those are the things I want to do the most. I haven't been, you know. Not as much.
The holidays are never a good time to endeavor to do such things, but for me this year, they are. I played some music last night, or maybe I only butchered some songs. I'd like to think that I played them well, but I could always use practice, and they could always be better. People seemed happy. Some were dancing, some were smiling, but the truth of the matter is that I didn't care either way. I just wanted to be doing it, and talent be damned, I was enjoying the moment for what it made me feel. Like I'm not slowly dying (as we all are), but rather slowly living up to my life's potential, whether or not it stops short of great.
My posts have been sparse, I know. It might be best to keep it simple, because even though we're all slowly dying, I need to live a little more slowly so that the meaning doesn't lose its appeal. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm taking my time, letting the words come where they may and when they're warranted. The same as I practice a song before I go stand and sing it in front of anyone, I need to practice writing what I mean before I shove it under anyone's nose to be read.
It's been a while since I've felt good about anything I've written. It finally happened this week when after some friends took me out for breakfast, I wrote them a "thank you" card. Right now, I'm writing a letter to a friend, because it seems like a good way to keep it going.
"One more tired thing/the gray moon on the rise/when your want from the day/makes you to curse in your sleep at night"
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