A severe writing lapse encumbers me. And semiopaque factors encumber writing. Not that thoughts don’t manifest, but not unaccompanied by all sorts of fragilities and anxieties without which there can’t be earnestness.
The fact of the nature is that I’m inconsistent with habits. Is that right? Certainly with some, from my undisciplined sleep schedule and surplus of unbeneficial nutrients to the sheer scarcity of writing.
I think I’ve lost sight of certain priorities aforetime hailed vital. This nutrition, though better than most, feels in severe disproportion for anything but the benefice of resistance training, weight comprised of both the healthier and the useless, no surprise I feel the bulkier and the more menacing.
But come brain chemistry and the poundage doesn’t contribute but towards fashioning my working brain into a pulp. And the fact that I’ve written at my most productive at the lower end of the needle only goes to corroborate this inverse correlation, however imprecisely helter-skelter.
That’s on the one end. Then I’ve lacked any immediate goal or purpose of sufficient explosiveness, floating without navigation or consistent wind, but also without major storm to warrant wreckage - just floating without much eagerness to bolster my ship.
I’ve juggled reading and language milestones in the ways accustomed. I continue to listen to content: ideally in a beneficial language and of pertinent subject matter; other of questionable utility, and some plain wasteful. I can’t claim that I don’t totally squander at least a couple of hours most days, squander in a sense of irrational time expenditure towards any immediate or subsequent increase. Don’t even ask me of meditation or holistic practices.
Right now I’m at the island of Curaçao and hoping for a decline in the latter, hoping to be shamed out of the pettiest forms of time utilization. By the way, to say tropical island would be superfluous.
There’s that. Then the technological shitstorm imparted upon me from all trajectories is of the ever rising coefficient of the toxic, per my definition anyhow: wearable and carriable smart devices suffered by most of my interactive sphere, smart cars, environmental waste, smart waste, reckless consumption, hyper-connectivity of coefficients dangerously elevated for a mind as capricious as this one desiring a simpler outlook of traditional values for my hypocritically catered meaning of ‘traditional’ challenging all delineated toxins but favouring vagabondage unavailable with such seamlessness but until the recent generations. But I don’t wish to expound a manifesto here.
Questions, comments? Connect.