Gray Clouds, Brown Boxes & Tubes

I haven’t felt capable of writing in here for a while because all these heavy things have been hanging over my head. Literally. Gray clouds & brown boxes. Bars & tubes stuck into my skull, driving me insane.

I assume the gray clouds are depressive thoughts of which I’m not consciously aware. The boxes probably contain psychic junk I have been suppressing. The metal bars extend to various people & represent the pressure I feel to please them. The hollow tubes contain thoughts & perspectives pumped directly into my head.

At least I think this is the case. I haven’t taken the time to carefully dig into these things because there is just too much heavy stuff there & it feels unbearably tedious to sift through it all.

So it has been sitting there, having a slightly discouraging effect upon me, making me doubt the value of anything I could express and also the value of those I would be expressing to.

It hasn’t been the best time ever when it comes to relationships.

For starters James has been going through the darkest period a man lives through in a 264 period (Pluto on moon) also known as the Wife Beating transit. And I’ve been stuck in a house with him night & day.

Secondly, the political situation- shutdowns etc- has me on edge. I feel nervous that you are expected to accept the government’s increasing control without question. I can’t bring myself to wear a mask- because I believe something sketchy is underway- and this makes me seem like an asshole to others. And people already think I am an asshole for supporting Trump which bums me out as well.

But the fact is basic freedoms- such as free speech & the ability to live life on my own terms- are very important to me. I don’t want to live in North Korea. And this makes me a nazi klansman in the eyes of most people I know, making me feel even more isolated.

And on a personal level these past months have released a series of events which made me realize most people I believed to be friends were actually enemies from the beginning. All this has me doubting how many good people actually exist in the world. Is everyone your enemy once you get to know them? Or am I just doing something majorly wrong?

Regardless though, I know I must push through these gray clouds & attempt to express myself, if only to provide balls for my enemies’ cannons.

Because I do believe in life. I know there is a higher purpose and our actions matter. We have to place our faith in doing the right thing, letting the chips fall where they may when it comes to peoples’ reactions.

And I also believe in people because they are made in Life’s image. Still this faith is a muscle I have to consciously exercise. I think the most important part of writing is summoning in your mind an image of an ideal audience that you are writing to. People who are caring, interested, thoughtful…. whatever qualities excite you. These imaginary people become your muse.

Sometimes you imagine specific people have these qualities and you make them your muse. Sometimes you find out they never had those qualities to begin with and it feels as though a piece of your muse has been lost. I guess that is what has been happening to me.

But then you summon your faith again and once again imagine a beautiful golden blob of humanity dangling above your head, filled with endless possibility. People so inviting you want to tell them everything.