fixed my "give a damn"

and just in time.

I plan, I plan, I plan

God laughs, God laughs, God laughs.

(sometimes beautiful surprises come).

floating? falling?

1. Fear of trapped.
2. Fear of future.
3. Fear of loneliness.
4. Fear of failure.
5. Fear of unconsummated talent.
6. Fear of too much.
7. Fear of not enough.
8. Fear of boxes.
9. Fear of being ripped from boxes.
10. Fear of language.
11. Fear of finality.
12. Fear of change.
13. Fear of rejection.
14. Fear of never-ending tiredness.
15. Fear of peaking.
16. And slipping.
17. And disappointing.
18. And disappearing.
19. Fear of forgetfulness.
20. Fear of losing perspective.
    
21. (Fear of unaware irony).
22. Fear of money.
23. Fear of apocalypse.
24. Fear of mindlessness.
25. Fear of rabbit holes.
    
26. Fear of being too afraid to jump them.
27. Fear of losing agency.
28. Fear of history repeating.
29. Fear of arbitrariness.
30. Fear of being too small.

cosmia/nausia

-"Whirlwind of Lovers," by William Blake.

"when you ate I saw your eyelashes

saw them shake like wind on rushes

in the corn field when she called me

moths surround me - thought they'd drown me

and I miss your precious heart..."

-"Cosmia," by Joanna Newsom.

---

I cannot tell if the universe is getting bigger or smaller as I grow.

Sometimes I am blanketed in quiet excitement. Sometimes my hands disappear. Sometimes I see nothing but the chaotic matrix. Sometimes I am alone.

Melanie Cheraso on running.

L: --I'm afraid I'm running from something.
M: --Why do you have to be running from something? Maybe you're not running from anything at all. Maybe it has nothing to do with where you were and where you're going. Maybe you just really need to run.

And another thing.

"The poet and the dreamer are distinct. Diverse, sheer opposite, antipodes. One pours out a balm upon the world, the other vexes it."

FROM John Keats' "The Fall of Hyperion"

----

In his dream, the speaker visits Moneta, the goddess of memory. He swears he's a poet. Oh, and she swears he's wrong.

(I will never be a poet).

----

There are two kinds of chaos: commotion, yes, but also the void. Today concluded with a sinking feeling of the latter. And I know this sadness is temporary, but the realization doesn't seem to be helping, because it's temporary-ness that's making me sad in the first place.

How am I supposed to 'vex' it when my agency's conditional--out of (my) control?

suspended (in the visceral).

"In Speak, Memory, Mabokov makes the poetic, or the playful speculation that Russian children before the Revolution--and his exile--were blessed with a surfeit of sensual impressions to compensate them for what was to come. Of course, fate doesn't play such premonitory games, but memory can perform retrospective maneuvers to compensate for fate. Loss is a magical preservative" (emphasis mine).

FROM Lost In Translation: A life in a New Language (1989)

via: Hoffman, Eva. "The New Nomads." Letters of Transit: Reflections on Exile, Identity, Language, and Loss. ed. André Aciman. New York: The New Press, 1999.

relinquishing control.

(when I can't control)


And being brave enough to act when I have agency.
Even when it's uncomfortable.
(Especially when it's uncomfortable).

relinquishing control (text) by Leslie Albanese is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Video "Don't Do It," featuring Sharon Van Etten. Powered by youtube.