My Name is a Killing Word.
I don’t want to go to work today… not because I think it’s going to be a bad day… I just want to chill out and read. I haven’t actually sat down to read a book in a couple weeks. There are a few books I need to finish reading. I had a good time drinking wine last night, very mellow…
I was thinking entirely too much though. Thinking about things someone my age and situation should not be thinking about, which happens often. I want to go to the park, or to the beach and just walk around, talk, fly kites (haven’t done that in awhile.) If you’ve never been to the beach when it’s cold, it’s a sobering experience, but also one of my favorites. I don’t really understand why, I hate the cold, but I love the beach, so my only guess is that my love for the beach and the ocean outweighs my hatred of the cold, but who knows. A lot of things are provoking my mind lately, I need to be doing greater things, but somehow simplicity seems to be the reasonable choice.
A mundane existence is sometimes the most fruitful in regards to creativity. Mostly because if you have too much to use, too much to draw from, there is no room for true creative thoughts and ideas. I’ve also come to realize that if I have an abundance of reference, I hit a wall and I can’t think or do anything. I fade in and out of things, always changing, flowing, I’m starting to think it might just be time to move again.
Hints for the Holidays: Donovan on Vinyl
