When I'm not making anything, part of me says it's alright just to record, to let time go with a nod to its passage. If all making is recording, does it follow that all recording is also creation? The angry part of me says no, you need to get up and move beyond the first level of existence--put something into the world that exists beyond, because and in spite of you. I'm sad for all the things that exist only in my head while I wash what seem these days to be interminable dishes, and I know--still--that I'm frustrated and tired and have spent too much time on the internet and it's way past my bedtime and tomorrow and yesterday I feel a totally different way, negating or washing out anything I can say in the moment. Unless of course I record it to carry with me as an artifact of this moment, irreversible and arcane in its removal from my real, physical, ever-changing mess of a body-self, and incomprehensible in its representation of a thought process that is/was both me and not-me insofar as I can know of the existence of my past and future selves, an interminable (and yet--ultimately terminal) run-on sentence, constantly revised and unrelentingly erased.
at 12:39 AM