my eldest son turned 21. this is…part of a much bigger story. maybe i’ll put a little here in a day or two.
on that angle—i’m moving some of my energy, some of my writing and drawing, back to the handmade. at least for a while. we all know everything changes. and then changes again.
blogging is good for a handful of things, and of course i’ll still do it. maybe i won’t even slow down on content. but it can’t be all i do anymore in the way of writing. i see a large, bound book with empty pages in my immediate future. creamy pages i can write on and draw in…fill with braindreams and mindmaps.
my writing and voice diaries have always been a way of keeping myself in touch with my own mind and heart. they are how i let myself know what i’m thinking and living. how i mark the time, the days; how i know to interpret them, how i learn from my life, how i keep history. it’s my GPS, how i connect things. it’s my own cavewall, it’s my confessional and memoir. my completely honest diaries are, in reality, how i stay sane.
writing online is always censored and shaped. it feels real, and it is real. and it also more a voice outward, and less of a meditative one meant only for my own heart and mind. it is a performance.
seeya at the next show.
