First sober improvisation in a while. Not sure if it really makes much of a difference. Was thinking while playing, about season 3 of Picard which I just finished watching. Was also thinking about how I freaked out on my last dxm trip and thought I was dying and told on myself and my wife called my friend over to check on me. Thereafter was a humiliating but cathartic conversation in bed which left me feeling like every neuron in my brain had been disassembled, soaked in everclear, and reassembled, with the ego furniture thudding painfully back into place over hours. Empty, gratuitous feeling, but always the damn paradox, was it helpful, necessary, or furthering my legacy of waste and disappointment? And are there vertices of notes to form this feeling as a polyhedral structure, metaphorically speaking? What do I do now that my sneaky little second life has been all blown to hell, before it even really got rolling? I guess I'll carry on with the writing somehow, some way, cause that still feels perversely relevant. And try and stay off all major mind altering substances, and by major, I mean even cannabis, so that's pretty major, I'd say.
But I finished watching season 3 of Picard, and that made me feel pretty good. That was a kind of catharsis, or at least something close to it, lacking a few vertices to complete the structure, leaking null-space, clipping satisfaction, but still, fulfilling enough, filling my soul with itchy bliss. What a ride. So much fun. Such a gift to have the cast all alive and well in 2023. Franchise totally redeemed.
I think I'm gonna try and do a review of each episode. Like, take the bold step of actually doing some writing that is meant to be good, and for people, but put a bunch of myself into it, as much as I can get away with and still deem publishable. Or maybe even a little more than that. Dare I?
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