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Tuesday |
| In his review of BUZZ, Jonathan Zwickel said it failed until it succeeded. Not exactly the rave an author hopes for but not a complete pan, either. He described it as an imperfect book about an imperfect character. Well, I knew it wasn't perfect but I also found the more I tried to perfect it the worse it got. No writing is more perfect than the blank page it besmirches. Emptiness is perfection. Everything else is just the human mess. |
I don't care about money. I kind of resent it. It feels like a practical joke that's been played on humanity and nothing is funnier than when people kill for it. I can't even get worked up about it as a means to an end. The indoctrination goes: work now, save enough, then you can have what you want. But you can't buy a lifestyle. You have to live it. Eliminate the middleman. Last year I decided to cut to the chase and live the dream. It didn't work out. |
But by failing I gained experience. A better opportunity came up and for the 5th time in 30 months I found myself Maui-bound on an airplane, that floating room with a door that opens on a different place than when you first walked through. This road leads to space and silence. I'm attracted to subtraction. I may be chasing rainbows but I'm not searching for a pot of gold. |