The fight with futility in the face of knowledge of necessary change finds me again. Perhaps, it has always known my location, even if I have been ignorant to its gaze. And with this perpetual battle with the creeping thought of helplessness- here again, another Monday.
Yet, I know this needs to grow, to evolve, or it will diminish itself to some doom. Without any attempted regard for reaction outward, these philosophical inside of mine cry louder each day for more of some always almost inexplicable more. And so, I fear my inability to be anything besides neglectful to this realm of idea.
It helps not that the conquest of content driven depraved charismas seems so absolute. A junkie often enough of it myself, I wonder now how any change might be got all around when I find so much stagnation withing myself. And yet, indisputably- change is a must.
‘You mustn’t confuse a single failure with a final defeat.’
Some lines from the century old story I am working my way through.
And while there is truth in that, I also know I am far from a singular failure in this tale of mine. There are so many in this personal history that many manage to evade and escape recollection, either through some intended self-defense or just the lack of continued capacity in these organic servers.
So, at what point do the series of failures finally become defeat? Can delusion sustain for a lifetime, or does the breaking point always find us? Is mine just around the bend? Will creative retirement, willful or otherwise, find the beast of me and hang up the pen, or cast it away?
Fret not, I don’t believe today is the day for conceding. And plenty of me still believe I’ll carry on with this business until the final cardiac pump. It is just a wonder that always hovers somewhere about. Though, it has been appearing profusely, as of late. Could be the shortening days, or just the current stage of a particular grief blending in with older one and those that are fresh. Still, I remain poised with enough purpose to stand, still, with bloodied fists clenched. Enough ruts have been known to assume with a modicum of confidence that a peak is bound to arrive from all this blind rummaging about the valleys of mind.
Still, what to do is a wonder that remains. And ‘how’ provides a further paralytic. Certainly doesn’t help that my body and mind are weary at the moment. And, I am the slightest bit hungover, still.
Either way, another week, another day. I’m off to go be on the radio, believe it or not. Because I like to keep my fights with impending technological tides varied and very antiquated.
