There is No Beacon

No. This is not part of my STUFF series. Sometimes writing into this blog is my only solace. I’ve heard somewhere that the biggest traumatic events in a person’s life are that of death and moving. I’m pretty sure I heard it like that. I have to agree, as the mourning and the grieving, as well as the pain and the suffering you endure during the process is absolutely unending.

I open one cabinet, another box appears, and in that box, and endless assortment of shit to go through. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I have to throw away. I’ve trashed paintings (I’ve not really done that before — not a lot of them at once anyway), tossed supplies, books, record keeping of I have no idea why I was keeping! I had files and files of rejection letters going back to 1988! I kept records of who I sent what to and what they said in response, keeping the return letter in the file. Why? I threw them all away and kept only the letters of acceptance. It went from practically a whole tax box to about 1/16 of a box. The file is now called, “Congratulations!” I felt good about how thick the file was. Not too shabby for a lifetime of work. It is the quality that’s inside not the quantity.

I know it sounds like I am cheery. I am not. It’s called sarcastic antipathy. Complacency actually. I no longer (at least in these recent moments) feel like I have to race to the edge of a cliff and jump off. There isn’t such an urgency now. I feel like I can just walk dead through this life. If I continue this way, I believe I can become catatonic.

So far, no house to go to. Landlord is, well, I have no idea what her mental illness is called, but it’s a different one than mine. The situation here changes practically hour by hour. The budget, the area, the storage, the search. I often have no idea what I am searching for. And I have no control. I also don’t know how much of my creative life I will be changing or what it’s going to look like. I need to envision something. But it’s just black. I see nothing for my not so distant future, and none of us feel confident around here. So? Succumb? Fly away? And in what way exactly?

Still going through the motions, but I don’t know why. 

 

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