|
what are you? You know, I don't know. I'm a writer, of course, and I take that to heart. I’ve studied it, worked at it. Still, it doesn’t fully apply. I try to express my feelings, to give them tangibility. I’m a feeler/sharer in that. Feelings can be conceptual, but they can also have an elusive presence. Our intellect and our psyche, they’re the makers of art. Writing, for me, is a process of learning and sharing from the expressions of that duality and from the feelings of either one or both. what have you experienced? That’s a great question. That’s the question, I think, we all want to answer. It’s a paradox, though, because to answer that question, I have to make a trade off. Each experience holds a place in time and space. As I answer this, I’m foregoing the opportunity of experiencing something else. Still, it’s totally worth it. Ben, you’re my experience this minute. whats interesting? I’m interesting. Words are interesting. My friends and family, all people are interesting. Life is interesting. Did you know that my little pet rat is no less alive than I am?! That blew me away when it occurred to me. I’m sorry, but it did. whats boring? Marketplace obligations are draining. So, you could say I find them boring. Suffering and torture, they’re boring. They’re unchanging and predictable. Enslavement is boring. Longing and pain are boring. what do you love? I love my time. I love, love, love, love, love my lovely time. Scheduled obligations are, of course, essential. We all answer to clocks — hunger pangs, bladders, heavy eyelids — but abuse of time is a scary thing. I cherish the free time in which I can wander, pursuing whatever interests lures me at that moment. Marketplace economics and the scheduled obligations therein, while necessary to a point, wound me. Free time is not the two hours set aside for play. That’s just more scheduled time. Free time is time for play, for work, for sex, for food, for meditation, for compromise, contemplation — whatever floats your boat. It’s boxless. It’s open. How many hours do you have open on any given day? Two? Three? It’s hard for me to accept abuses of time; I love time. what do you hate? I hate hate. I get overwhelmed with fleeting feelings of hatred. I hate Bush. I hate rich people. I hate death. I hate obligation. I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate … Please stop me from hating! So, then, I do. I have to stop. Hatred, anger, they’re consuming and contagious. I don’t want to live that way (or die that way). I want to have my time and love it, too. I work NOT to hate. It takes A LOT of gentle self-reminding though.  |
 |