Questions. Doubts. Fears. Incalculable Uncertainties.

There is just so much work. I’m being torn apart. Sometimes I wonder if I really did sign up for this. Brings me back to OBO days, when I’m just out there staring at they grey sea, dreary waves, the black night, okay pathetic fallacy I know, its actually quite beautiful when I remind myself of it now, that I wouldn’t really mind being there again, lulled to sleep by the waves. Alas, reality is a harsh one, and the world a cruel one in which we live in, things were never really that easy in OBO, I went thru hell, I put my mind through worse, all that mental anguish, anguish, anguish. There were times where I screamed all my soul out into the silence of the night with that equal silence in the deepest of my being, I felt like a great big hollow with a great big echo resounding with nothingness into the empty shell of the great metal thing that keeps me afloat along with a hundred other disillusioned idiots. Rime of the ancient mariner, just another bunch of lost sailors out at sea, doomed and cursed to eternal unrest in eternal undeath, to float among the witchy and eldritch lights in the depths of the oceans, flash, flashing, flashes, rippling, undulating, waves, echoes, like orgasms in the water slick.

But there’s so much work. Calls, emails, projects, rehearsals, meetings, essays, oh god the essays, a never ending stream on unconsciousness that pervades even my sleep, my phone is the devil, so many times I wished that I could just smash it into smithereens into nothingness that likewise I might disappear away from this wretched wretched existence. But I can’t die just yet, not just yet, just one more month before I can really fade away, throw my phone away and be alone for a while, but not really can I run away, for once I’m back home there will be no peace at all less the one sanctum I have.
A stream of consciousness. Nothing more.