26-04-03 15:40

When you don’t want to read. Come here to write. You don’t have to worry about mistakes. You can correct them if you want. You can leave them if you want. There is no wrong outcome. Just write stuff.

You can say it as many times as you want. In all the different ways you choose.

Lately been fried. I wanna un-fry.

Some part of me loathes white people. Many parts of me do. But I also don’t. That’s just how it is. Prejudice. That’s what it is. There are parts of me that want white people to feel uncomfortable. Want them to be inconvenienced. Want them to suffer as others do. Want them to feel rejected, in the ways their whiteness rejects all that isn’t white.

Let’s speak of something else.

I’m excited to be reunited with my guitar of about 15 years. It has been in quite a bad shape. The repairs cost more than what was ever paid for it. But maybe with inflation, that isn’t so true. Still, I’m excited. Cautiously excited. It’s not an expensive guitar by guitar standards, but it always sounded right to me. I call it Ocean’s Mirror. I’ve taken it many times to the beach. But also, it reflects what is deep within. Or perhaps that is me doing the reflecting. I’m just happy to be able to play it more. It might be time to retire it soon. But I did not want to leave it unplayable.

Seeking balance in the words. Maybe I’ll find it when I stop seeking. Maybe I’ll find it when I stop idealizing what balance is. It’s easy to know lovely clever sayings, metaphors, similes, and I’m losing another word. But to know them. To no longer need the words that carried that message to you. That is something. Or not. Who knows? Some of us love building things. Sometimes the envelope is prettier than the letter. Maybe we just like opening packages. It was never about the thing inside. Perhaps the remedy is to send love letters. The other word was analogies.

It really is nice to have a place to just put things down. Maybe it isn’t about what is put down. Perhaps it’s the putting down. I think so. Maybe tomorrow I won’t. Is it the getting good? Or is it the practice? Perhaps it’s both. A title is a title. It is held, but at some time it will be dropped. A description is a description. But we often omit the time of the description. Time, also, a description, much like a map.