Well, I am headed down to the southern end of the West Coast again... don't know why I do things... preference? felt-need? belief in a cause? familial pressure?
I was thinking about time, and how it seems it goes so fast, and I began to wonder why that feeling of the quickness of time builds an anxiety inside me... What do I feel like I should be doing with the time that I havent done that makes me feel this way? Time passing is just part of life, and therefore should be joyful. Why don't I believe that with my body?
We move one way, and then can never unmove that way... it is the thought of death, of the end of movement,I think,that leads to my anxiety. Potential! I will not live up to my potential!
"Humic Songs" is finished. Printed forty - now to cut, collate, and staple.