I've been thinking a lot about [[Art]]. Lately, my personal struggles have reminded me a lot of the latter years of college, spiraling through various creative processes in The Experimental Theater Wing, getting stuck in third-person camera mode (that way it can get for actors, where you watch yourself), stewing in a simmering pot of personal loneliness, confronting an uncertain future.
It's been very difficult to be "in the moment" lately. Admittedly, I don't have are real call to be there as part of a production or anything, but it's one of my core [[Axioms of Living]], the idea that [[Presence is Perfection]]. It's a tense and pensive place to be, one foot in the past, one foot groping for some perchase on the future; pissing on the now.
There are several ways I can think of confronting this, but the one that stands out, is the most frightening, and probably therefore the best, is the idea of getting off my fat careerist ass and being creative again.
There are lots of unanswered questions from that point. Form is a big one. When I came out here originally I told a lot of people I wanted to write a book, which I haven't done. I did end up writing a chapter which may or may not be included in something, which is nice. However, while putting together 8,000 or so words was a good exercise, it didn't really scratch that original itch. I don't particularly have any ambitions (at this point) to deal with the world of publishing, but going after an ambitious writing project is one possibility that appeals. It would have to be some kind of real freaky Gonzo head-explosion, but that's possible. Writing on a tear would give me some of the release I need.