Just peeking my head up out of my hole to say, “Hi” to all 5 of you who check in regularly here and to say that things are going well in the world of book-writing, or compiling, or whatever-the-hell it is I am doing.
Yesterday I actually starting printing out pieces, and when you print something, like on paper, then it’s really REAL.
I don’t know. Don’t ask me, I’m in a weird place.
Just this morning I wrote this whole riff on 750 words about meditation, except that I don’t like to call it “meditation” because that’s too holy, and what I do when I “meditate” isn’t holy at all. Maybe it’s a “holy mess,” but there are no candles or statues involved, that’s for sure. It’s more like being forced to watch a really bad movie; one you’ve seen over and over and it never gets any better, and the main character never learns, and it’s not even funny anymore. It’s just boring and crappy and inane.
And you know what the most hellacious thing about this “watching the Movie of Me” is? It’s the only sure-fire way to self-knowledge.
And I can’t do it. Not consistently, and not even for long streaks.
And that blows.