Distracted

My thoughts are grains of sand that slip through my hands, hastily making their escape through the spaces of my fleshy fingers. I try to press the tiny pebbles together, but they do not cohere.

The time

What time is it? I look at the clock hanging over my bed. Its hands are made of thin lines of steel, gossamer threads that glint in the morning sun. One short hand points towards ‘7’ the other, longer, towards ‘23’. Twenty-three? Four plus three. ‘4’ with three tiny spaces after. The long hand points to three spaces after 4. The time is 7, three spaces after 4.

Apathy

That sense of paralysis crept up on me again. You know, the kind that asks, "What's the point? We are all slowly dying anyway." The nitpicking at the conditions of everyday life. Of how it operates, of how it propagates itself. How it rudely intrudes into my daily habits like a mildly disliked acquaintance who presumes themselves invited to a friends-only event. And in their wake, leaves behind a vague sense of unease and resentment. Every day, I am formed by a totality which itself has one foot sunk helplessly into the recesses of time while the other dangling limb reaches limply out to grasp a future it cannot  yet see clearly. Ossified in this chrysalis state, never to emerge whole. I am stuck in its midst. A stick in the mud. So what shall I do with my time? Choose to forget my circumstances. My motto for this year is:- Don't think, just do. Just do, just do, just do.

Anger

Bitterness. Bile. Some kind of abhorrent medicinal tonic that is always administered, never taken (the latter implies some sort of voluntary aspect). A thick, sticky goop that is plastered messily onto my internal organs. SPLAT. It just clings there like a festering wound. If I leave it for too long one day I shall forget that it was not originally a part of me.

Creativity

creō to create, to make

-ity condition or quality of being such


Origin from 'create' appeared in the 14th century, most notably by Chaucer to talk about the divine.


Creativity is being in the act of creating, of making. How fitting that the earliest use of the word in English was related to the divine - to create is to give life, to bring or shape into existence, to form a semblance of a thing in the world.


To create is to do. It is a doing.

Interior Monologue

Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do, just do just do just do just do just do just do just do justdo justdojustdojustdojustdojustdojustdojustdojustodjusdotjustojustdojustdojustdosujustodjustodojustdojustojusdtojustodjustodjustodojustdojustodjustdojustodojustdojustdojustodjustodjsustodjustojustojustdojustodjusdtojustodjusjustodojustdojustdojsutdojusotjustododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododododo.

Manufacturing consent

Manufacturing consent. To manufacture consent. Manufactura, a making by hand. Consent, con (together), sentive (feel). To shape the feelings of a "together", to mould a shared sentiment.

To turn what is visceral into something manmade. To leash emotion to the hands of man. Manufacture consent.