Saturday
Thursday
What you came here for
I noticed that I haven't exactly been doing much in the way of writing lately, and I suppose the internet is as good a place as any to do it. I have three, near empty books, yes, journals, which desperately need filling as well.
Today I woke up around four pm, to find myself disgusted by yet another one of my paintings, this was the fourth one I've recently painted over. I am much happier with this new one, it's green, apparently capricorns like the greens. I think tomorrow I'll ruin it with a nice big thick red stripe, or a cross, maybe I'll use the red cross, just a cut out perhaps from a poster hanging here at work. The other day I bought a banjo, my second ever stringed instrument.
Today I woke up around four pm, to find myself disgusted by yet another one of my paintings, this was the fourth one I've recently painted over. I am much happier with this new one, it's green, apparently capricorns like the greens. I think tomorrow I'll ruin it with a nice big thick red stripe, or a cross, maybe I'll use the red cross, just a cut out perhaps from a poster hanging here at work. The other day I bought a banjo, my second ever stringed instrument.
Perhaps a problem for me has been the issue of disregarding not only my child hood memories, but nearly everything up until a year ago. I've never really trusted my memory, I much prefer to forget. Once you've forgotten there's no longer any question about it, it didn't happen. Not too long ago I was practicing actively forgetting, most likely there is already a term for it, I don't think it would be the same as repressing memories. My goal was to aggressively destroy neural pathways by lightly concentrating on the event, wait, and let it go. I'm not so sure though that the exercise did nothing but reinforce and sharpen those I wished to pass.





