Hmmm… This is not where I belong. I can sort of see it now, if I squint just right. But I still don’t know where I belong. What’s next?
I am listening to Israel and sort of thinking in circles around the fact that he’s dead and I’m not and I don’t really understand what any of that means. I mean… death… what a bizarre and incomprehensible concept. And yet… it’s a part of everything we understand… a part of every life. If it doesn’t eventually die, it wasn’t really alive anyway.
Life is a very deep sort of thing. I am about as articulate right now as a four-year-old. But that’s okay, I suppose, because four-year-olds have talents that easily surpass those held by members of the Nobel club. Chief among those is to see into the emptiness and find somewhere therein a kind of laughter.
I wonder if you can find a way to return to that ever?
Or is that just what SSRIs are designed to combat?
Heh… I have to sail off into never-neverland now.