My hand/finger feels better. I can write! I can draw! Oh happiness. I wrote four morning pages while chain-sipping coffee. No answers, just observations.
Asking myself: what is the one question I find myself asking over and over?. Lots of drivel, but it felt good to write.
Half-baked idea: I want to start/join a music club. Does such a thing exist? Instead of a book club—a music club! Where weekly, monthly? we would listen to a specific album and then chat about it afterward. Fun.
It's curious how much you like a person has a direct correlation to how a particular book/song/film recommendation influences you.
Hilarity: -Nathaniel Russell
I was reading bits about Nathaniel Russell, and he wrote something that struck a chord. The gist: I like the kind of art that you won't find in a big fancy gallery. But it's still important work; it runs parallel to the kind of music I'm into.
I've always been drawn to not-too-perfect art. Low-fi art. Zine-y art. Does money ruin art? Maybe. Probably.
Sitting at my kitchen table making lists. Roses, thorns, etc. Throwing darts into the sky, seeing what sticks. Am I staying too safe? Why do I keep pushing the big themes of my life away? I fear nothing. I fear everything.
I want to experience more awe.
A physical response to awe: goosebumps; I get those with music, a piece of writing, being near a body of water, spotting a colorful bird.
The closest I've come to practicing meditation are: drawing, walking in forests with the doggo, and watching the sun dip or rise.
Current writer crush: Susan Sontag, esp her notebooks.
Being alone is difficult but simultaneously easy as it demands nothing of us.