Flint and steel

Somehow, in the search to find my "right" path in life, the path to my creativity has become overgrown and choked with weeds over the past year or so...very little sunlight and oxygen coming through. I occasionally sit on the couch and lazily strum a few bars on my guitar, but find myself uncaptivated and hovering in some kind of existential angst asking self-defeating questions like "what's the point?" and "who needs another song anyway?"

Impatient, I set my guitar down and scurry away to some distraction (Netflix, dishes, masterbation, what have you) rather than sit with the gentle bellows of breathing and curiosity to get the fiery sparks going again. So, this blog is meant as the flint and my musings and ramblings the steel. For my own health and happiness, I must get the creative fire going again. And into this creative fire I will gladly toss my angst, artistic jealousy, doldrum seriousness, annoying self righteousness, insecurity, petty thievery, white liery, over thinkery, etc. It will be a mighty fire indeed - 'cause I gots lots of stuff to burn!

The rising smoke of these posts will memorialize the inner battle between the unceasing soul urge to create and the lazy ego doubter that hates to budge without some kind of carrot of acclaim or success dangling as reward. Burn the carrots! Watch the dancing flames tell their story on the wall of the cave. Sit in this circle with me.

Let's warm our hands over this necessary-for-life fire and recall the fleeting moments of delight and strange encounters from the day of days and from the dreams that are floating everywhere and everywhen.

I feel my pulse--two fingers pressed into my neck. Ahhh. Rhythm, a quick tide. Full moon last night. Snow today in the northeast. Snowflakes bigger than quarters. The refrigerator hums me to the end of this post.