i wonder what it would be like if i didn't have an imagination and didn't let my thoughts wander me away from me.
if i had all i wanted, if i filled up the hole, would i know it and would i be happy, or would i think that something was wrong with being happy with a filled-up hole?
am i wanting because there's something wanting or because i want there to be something?
sometimes i think i think so that i can think i'm living. and sometimes i think the living is in the thinking. but always the living is never quite lived, i think.
a dreadful thing, having thoughts, and thinking about thinking thoughts. it makes one think of things that one wouldn't if one didn't, and then one begets thoughts that make one think one lacks... something.
wanting. such an ungracious state of being.
makes one write crappy clever lines and cringe and think, leave it, it's all part of the plan to lay bare all of my inadequacies and let the world wash over me, and whatever judgments i think it has. when really, it's just washing over me like a pebble in the sand, and doesn't really have any colour to it.
desire? seems to be about getting more, but it's about thinking less of what already is. such delicious ungratefulness.
ah, me. i need good work, work that dries me up and makes me want more of everyone. work that lights me up and makes me shine. not errands. work. work in, i don't know, a biblical sense, like, the good work. it brings me closer to god. thank you NIN, i feel you from the inside.
someone cast me in a good play, pay me well and don't take me away from my kids. HAHA!
so i keep on desiring more.