Fatigue

Things here have been crazy, and complicated.  My life has not been as productive, especially from the creative point of view, as I wish that it could have been for a lot of reasons.

For example, I still haven’t been able to get back to writing.  I want to, but for some reason, I feel like I need to wait for something more – like if I write now I will look back on it years later and just feel like I was wasting my time for not seeing things more clearly!

It’s weird.  In a way, in all the things I create, I see a trend to use less and less.  my writing becomes starker, my choreographies become simpler, my music becomes less cluttered…

A perfectly straight and rigid blade extending to the horizon, organic, imperfect, simple simplicity.  No words to describe it other than “it is” but only understandable be people seeing it for themselves.  All artists see it from times to time; something so beautiful that it puts tears on your cheeks before they even have a chance to wet your eyes.  when emotion sucks the breath out of your rib cage in a short burst, or when you see so deeply into the night sky that you see something that you never saw before.

Did you know that there is a structure to the darkest part of the night sky?  I remember peering through a telescope at it as a child.  It was velvet on my eyes, like the skin of a sea cucumber in my hands on a small volcanic island off the coast of Japan as an awkward 13-year old with big glasses, no girlfriend, and ill-fitting, too-bright synthetic-fibered clothes.  This ugly lump of flesh, this specimen of divine design.  A simple little sea creature with the night sky for a coat; I felt like I was touching heaven.

The perfumed fuzz on the cheek of a woman sitting next to you dangling her bare feet in a rapidly flowing desert stream –her touch enough to send you sprawling backwards and upwards into the pastel collage of cobalt blue and black moleskin that pulled your brain out through your eyes as a child to send it back to you, twenty-two years later with a question that is its own response, wondering what you might have discovered today and what might turn you upsidedowncrazy tomorrow…

I start to think that all the women who have ever been in my life are just phantoms of the same one, all haunted by the spirit of themselves, and are cursed by the fact that I’ve known them all before…

Funny how the words that start a relationship off are so often reflected right back the other way at the end.

I feel a patina of grey just kissing the color that could have been had I just let things in more, or less, or had just made a decision between the two.

Fatigue.

Things that used to seem so clear now are all turned in on themselves like the valves of a heart.

I can’t even seduce a woman, anymore.  I smile to say “imagine I could say all the right things… would you?”  and they would.  I guess they are tired too.

Ah, but there are still those moments from time to time, those fleeting ribbons of red racing past my temples when I’m distracted by something else…

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