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Thoughts from this morning #3
A peek inside the wilderness that is my head
[detail of painting by Hilma af Klint, Tate Modern, August 2023]
1. I’ve been writing on the internet for 17 years, why does this still bother me?!
2. She makes it all look so idyllic. Her life, her pretty house, her Substack 😏
3. Come on, I’ve written words like that, I know it’s the filtered PR version of life.
4. And what’s wrong with sharing that? It’s a nice creative exercise, part of her writerly practice.
5. But as the consumer of it I don’t feel inspired, I feel less-then. I look at my messy house with my messy brain and see too much reality.
6. Is that how people feel when they’ve read some of my stuff? [I’m sorry!]
7. It’s true and it’s not true. I can endure the mess because I notice the nice bits too. The mess is part of it. I see my own lifemess but the reader doesn’t get to see the editing our eyes do. The selective sight we need to stay sane.
8. I want to write another book.
9. Oh god, are we back to this thought again? Just bloody do it then!
10. I can’t, I need to pay my rent.
11. Copy that.
12. What does the book represent?
13. an eternity passes while I stare into space
14. Something to hold. To treasure. Something meaningful, tangible. Dogeared and scribbled in. A friend. A comfort. Inspiration. Solace.
15. Isn’t that what you wanted for the first book?
16. I know more now! I can do a better job!
18. Did I just say “LOL” in my own head?
19. I want to stick pages together and do some artsy typing on it. I want to paint and draw and magically have the ability to do that in a way i actually like. I want a fabric cover that’s cottage-y and mid-century and yet scandi and minimal. But not. I want Polaroids slotted in, real ones from the 90s. i want to go back to art college in 1995 and be in that 22 year-old body but with my 50-year-old self awareness. i want to make better choices and love myself through the pain and be brave enough to say NO and allow myself to do all the things i wanted to do. i want to break up with him sooner. i want to travel while i had the energy. i want to do it over but i also don’t want to. i want to be here now. i just want to sleep better.
“But at the end of the day, when we’re finally alone, we’re peering down into the black hole in our hearts. Our insatiable, inexplicable, longing probes the emptiness much the same way you do when you can’t keep your tongue out of that sensitive, empty spot that once held a decaying tooth.”
Sarah Ban Breathnach, Something More, 1998