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In a way I sorta took a day off for the autumnal equinox. I went back to reading and writing all day. That's what I prefer to do. Since I can easily publish anything I like on the internet by my own hand, then, why would I not?
I'm constantly surprised by how people respond to my ability to remember what they write or tell me about themselves. Its no real effort for me because I remember patterns not content. If I remember the pattern, the content emerges automagically from the framework. In my fathers house are many mansions. It reminds me of a pop song from my youth, "I'm my own grandpa..."
The shadows on the wall I walk along as I attempt to reconstitute my constitution have been tricking me lately. The problem for me is that they are not tricking me at all, but rather amazing me that I've never recognized what I suddenly "saw" yesterday out walking.
Yesterday I saw two shadows, and my first impression was that the second shadow I saw was the reflected original shadow cast by the real sun in the real sky upon a real me and placing a real shadow on the concrete sidewalk I trod upon. Now I'm flipped out. I went back today and realize there were actually four shadows of myself in the vicinity, but I might have been wrong about there being a reflected shadow.
The fact that I saw these things that have had to have been there all along has caused me to think about how an artist might think I was stupid for not having seen this phenomena before. I realized that if it wasn't so hot and I wasn't so sweaty and if the passerbys wouldn't think I was crazy and called the cops on their smartphones... I probably could have drawn with a pencil a fair approximation of what is.
For artsy things I need a portal. An entry-way. Inspiration of some sort that I sort of think I have to generate on my own if it don't come natural. Which is my point. The shadows and lines I saw on the sidewalk and in the reflections of the display windows at the strip mall might have been natural. It might have come to me rather than being conjured by desire.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
