Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Well here. I am. I AM. 6 years later. Still the same me. Still the same thoughts and practices but circling around. Back to myself to re-evaluate, re-examine. Again. I find the writing faster than the painting. The creativity so portable and personal. Though linear. But I do appreciate typing these keys keys for me. Seems appropriate  to make the connections more easily since I am typing by day. Sending data. Translating thoughts through keys and letters and phonics and then sending them through space to other translator  boxes. For other eyes to see and interpret  and process and digest. Whew...did I need to get away from that shit show. That mudslinging circus that we have become a part of. No elements of self protection can guard you from the back alley that social media has become. It steals you from yourself under the guise of connectedness. At least this is my present truth with it. For sure there are benefits and pleasantries and cute babies and kittens sprinkled in but the social experiment has run amuck and I am content to sit back and recalibrate. Sharing with my own damn self. Looking at my own damn posts. Right here in the empty hall that provides expression un fucked with. black and white. Clean and crisp. quiet. and mine. simple and lovely.liquid

Back to it

Well here I am. Back in this place of recording. Yes, like an empty hallway. Where I am the only one to make the noise. The only one to hear the echo. My words ache to be written, to stand somewhere. To be seen. But maybe only by the emptiness of this old screen. Maybe only by me. A record. An ancient tablet. Some old wisdom rising up into the privacy of a writing temple. One where wisdom spills. Without the comments or likes or scrolling. All of that fight or flight creating a huge snowball of anxiety. I needed a break. A return to center. To life. To this forgotten page. I am almost amazed that something this simple still exsists. Thank you God for the simplicity of this. It is so nice to write here.