There. is. nothing.
Hours. days. weeks.
Nothing.
Thoughtless voids of calming drought. Scratching.
Scratching. Scratching at the words that flow fast and free bouncing joy from the skies the rainbow the line at the edge of forever.
Sonic with invincibility. I’m the infinite lives hack.
My thoughts are so strong you cannot touch me now. Come at me with your overarching concepts of life the universe and everything. Come at me with songs and poems and stories and adventures. Come at me with everything that you have.
Nothing. Scratching. Nothing.
Until the smile. Returns.
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But are they really your thoughts? Do you possess them? Or are you scratching at them like everything else that is dichotomously ephemeral and substantial? Infinitude is the eternal present, and the eternal present is nothing but a transition lost as soon as discovered from past to future or from potential to kinetic. That is part of what I read into your one word sentences. Like “there,” or “is,” or “nothing,” the present is simply what it is, and the moment we try to synthesize it into and with something else it is gone into the past or into the future depending upon the temporal point of view. So “there” is no longer “there” when we create the construction of “there is…” Perhaps, there is a hint of post-modernism in this.
I like that you took two meanings from there.
For once, I wrote this quite literally. I recently got diagnosed with cyclothymia, which is a mood disorder along the lines of bi polar. The mood shifts tend to be more rapid but don’t quite reach the extremes of bi polar.
The scratching is a physical sensation I get in my head. I get an uncomfortable irritating scratching and I look for distractions to numb it.
There are times when my brain is a thoughtless and emotionless void. Then there are times of pure creativity, excitement, and passion. I want to do everything and the world is an amazing place.
But I do scratch for the ephemeral too. Maybe this is a conversation with the void too…
Prolonged physiological, mental, or emotional hardships are like open doors to conversations with the void. I suffered several years through severe physical rehabilitation from a car accident that took the life of my parents. I can attest to the experience of trauma on a soul burgeoning toward her creative potential. At a certain point the physical/mental/emotional pain coincides with the metaphorical. Life does not imitate art so much as becomes indistinguishable from it.
I don’t quite know how it happened but I’ve missed out on a lot of your posts lately…
To be fair, my own self imposed reading hiatus of late probably didn’t help.
But I just wanted to say I’m so glad to be reading your blog again.
I’ve really missed it 🖤🖤
Two things probably caused it- 1. I had all my issues when I migrated my blog I stoped appearing for a while. And 2. I went a bit off the grid for a long time toward the start of lockdown and lost my mojo. But I’ve been a bit crap at reading other people’s things too! I think I did a binge of your site a week or two back- but I’m behind again!!
Yup, the old binge and purge cycle.
I know it only too well.
Either way about I’m chuffed we’ve reconnected 👍🖤
YAY!!
😁🖤