Perpetual Notion

For a year and a half I have made it a ritual to journal everyday. The entries are quite wide in scope, subject, and coherence. The weblog is an effort to write for an audience beyond myself, but now and then I may let a journal entry sneak in. In the instance that I categorize an entry as “verbatim,” I am pulling something directly from my journal and publishing it unedited. Poor grammar, ranting, and likely made-up words plague such entries. And yet in sharing it, I apparently recognized some semblance of value.

“Anxiety is the mother of the stagnant child. Get up get off your ass do something or get a switch. There is no restraint on the value of hurt that can should will be applied to the do nothing bag. Crucify yourself just so you get up within three days and birth an idea that walks. We have no use for a mind fart destined to linger and fizzle. We need to kick such things right back up the pants. Do nothing do something they die they are in finality a use to society because they make the living all the better for the rest the doers. Their death is a contagian as the quota must always be of some doing some not. The not die to beget more nots. Trim the fat and reassess what fat is then trim some more. We will not have a society of doers makers creators and those that push things forward. There will always be the place of the loaf. The next head on our chopping block cornerstone keystone fulcrum of eternal balance. A pain in the ass head foot eyes to the fingertips anxiety is. It crawls through the skin as an unwanted guest but wanted just the same. Making the person allergic to stagnance by shifting them so consistently that there is no position of comfort. The eyes lose the focus of everything that is unimportant and that is everything so they just roll as marble until the focus catches something and holds and that is the only thing worth doing the only thing. Wait for it wait for it…

I have taken the position of the dominant idea. I do not own it yet. But I will keep the space vacant for when it comes. The books I have along would just stuff my holes with pillows and pervert me to other wonderings. I have no space nor time for such fluffy perversions. The neon light blinks vacancy with an asterisks. The fine print will inform any asking such details that there is space but only for one. Perverts need not apply. Another asterisks, this one clarifies perversion, anything that is not what I want in my head. Where is my idea? I sit in ready wait.”

dHb 5-22-07