I have to leave this coffee shop in
thirteen minutes to get back to work, which means this post will be
the shortest and least rehearsed of all of my blogs so far. However,
maybe that will be a good thing, give you a fresher and more raw
experience of me than you’ve seen yet.
 
I am feeling FRUSTRATED. There is part
of me which is only satisfied when I am in the place of creation,
when I am inspired and creatively pouring out my words and feelings
(feelings especially) into a work of art which can be appreciated and
communicate some kind of real truth that is universal. And right now
I feel dry and empty and full of busywork.
 
God, I want to inspire, I want to bring
my friends to the heights of human experience, to heaven on earth. I
want to bring them down to the depths, the shame and the grief of
hell on earth. I want my audience to be shattered and rebuilt into a
shining piece of art. And of course, I want to feel the same thing.
I want to be in the heights. I want to be in the depths.
Perpetually. I want to be broken eternally. I want to be rebuilt
happily ever after.
 
And yet the position is untenable. Who
can maintain such emotion, such experience, especially when the ennui
of reality presses in so preponderantly.
 
Today I faxed approximately 46 pages.
I uploaded approximately 63 pages into
the computer.
I made coffee.
I photocopied.
I checked email.
I replied to email.
I organized, planned, and spoke to my
boss in a strange office language no one but those in the financial
industry would understand.
 
Gouge out my eyes and barbecue them on
skewers.  Serve them on wooden sticks as eye kabobs, a light afternoon snack.
 
I am less upset than I sound, but there
is a part of me that it is this upset. How strange is the constantly
shifting sea of our emotion, our internal life. I always want to
freeze the seas so that they will stop shifting and I can have a
clear idea of what really lies beneath them, but it’s impossible.