February 11th 2025.
What a dark and rainy morning, cold and uninviting. I'm writing today's journal without having run in the morning. My body felt the rain before I knew it was there. I felt very heavy and lethargic and stayed in bed longer before I opened the shutters and saw the storm.
The city now has a blue filter over it all, a hazy pro mist look. Cold temperature, no warmth. Why are rainy days blue? Why not red or green? Is it the same reason why oceans and lakes are blue? I need Neil deGrasse Tyson to explain this to me. Would Homer describe this look as pale wine?
I'm at a part of my life now where I'm looking for my next project and trying to figure it out. I have some runway after my last project in Spain, and I also have an awareness of what I didn't like about corporate work, and even writing this now feels scary. I want to share my writing, but if my projects don't work, will talking about corporate life be damaging?
Really, I just want to write every day the way Asle paints every day in Septology. Just let me feel this pen on paper and share what's alive in me. Find those moments of light in the darkness, as Asle was interested in. I gave up on that book after 100 pages. It was just, too miserable. An artist is terribly alone and misses his dead wife, and just prays and paints and thinks all the time about what other people are thinking. It's unrelentingly sad. It's not what I want to go to sleep with. My nighttime reading of fiction should be light and not that heavy.
And I really miss reading Infinite Jest. What if I start reading it again? Some people watch reruns of Friends and Seinfeld. Why not rereads of Infinite Jest? People reread Harry Potter and they live in that world. People reread the Bible and they live there. Why not reread the only Metamodern text that I actually enjoyed?
Why keep looking for different iterations of themes that I've already found? Well, it's because this book is so goddamn heavy, and I don't mean like dark heavy, but just heavy. Physically, it's a huge book.
You know, I've really been entertaining the idea of sharing these daily journals, but something seems very vulnerable about it, and I worry about the pornographic element. What's usually deeply intimate and vulnerable changes when it becomes performative. How will my writing change knowing I have someone over my shoulder?
Will I be able to connect with myself as deeply as I'd like to, as I usually do, or will my writing change based on viewer response? And, is this fear of changing for others a sense of the ego creeping in? I'm gonna start reading Rick Rubin's book today on the Creative Act and see what that could tell me.
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