Absorption

I guess I'm gonna have to commit to blogger now - like a reluctant husband. Because this is what people are reading now. But I liked message boards better. I'm not sure I really like this little cave all that much. Maybe I should adorn its stalactites in frilly paisley drapes, if the matrix will allow me the privilege. Blogger's not a pleasure to navigate.

My writing impulse has been on a severe wane for months now - my words are slowing to a trickle - no great thundercrashes of prose, no epic poems, barely even any modest ones. Is it because with all the music projects I have no time for verbal inspiration? I don't know, I kind of miss the writing. But the idea that I used to aspire to a technical perfection in writing weirds me out - musical technique is hard enough. Getting all your syntax straight, getting characters fleshed out, getting the plot untangled, getting to the fucking stripped down point and remaining original besides - fuck - maybe if I had another lifetime ahead of me.

Maybe when I reincarnate as - well, you know, there's no writer that I could comfortably become in my current incarnation. The only writer I would want to be is the version of myself that is repressed inside the cage of laziness I've allowed to grow around me, atrophied talent, letting the best ideas to rot. I would have to be my personal potential if I'm going to be anything. But does this voice really have anything to say? My revolutionary stance has remained basically upright from the days when I first developed a social conscience, but back then they were my own conclusions arrived at through original observation of life and people. They've since been reinforced by the angry lefty complaints, more informed and articulate, I've come across since, but I think they've also been corrupted by a propagandistic slant - I can't tell where my voice begins and the shrill chorus ends now.

I've been absorbed somehow. Not sure if this is a personal weakness, or just the natural process of the hermit cracking the shell. Because although I've gained a lot coming out here, it also feels a bit like a sell-out. Can't be the great zen tree falling in the forest anymore, but now that I'm heard and sometimes even actively listened to, I realize I'm too entangled to say a damn thing without being compromised and hypocritical, and failing to wrest words from a daisy chain of influence and confluence that stretches past the event horizon. That's why the future is in riffage probably. Intellectual property will disappear. The artistic greedheads will find their meme-hoarding an increasingly ridiculous and socially-unacceptable endeavor.

Okay, there's some words. Jaunty-neutrality. I'd say I've still got some brain cells left to rub together after all the DXM peaks (no sine-waves in the dextroverse) even though I'm drawing upon the well of cliches to state this.