Tuesday, October 07, 2008
A certain weight weighs heavily upon my shoulders. Gravity, pulls me bedwards as my eyes peer sightlessly at an electronic journal. I pen as usual in an attempt to capture a certain moment, but that is impossible. Seconds after i begin that which has past, is like grasping at sand in a shattered hourglass. I clench my fist hard and at best i can offer my readers a handful of dust, memories to the best i can hold on to. Its fascinating how writing becomes typing and though both involve the production of art, i still somehow miss pen and paper. But heck, my handwriting would completely obscure and attempt at rereading my older works. Penning this lenghty prose thus far has yielded no progress in my rumination and the emotional moment has already past, and here i am composed and protected, hiding behind pretty words, but trying nevertheless to give you a realer me. Lets find the Jo-ness of Jo, how cliche.... But yes, today the talking cure brings me baby steps closer to healing some older wounds. But yes, its highly likely that my unconscious self demands selfishly for that big hug and massive outpouring of emotions, rage, anger, grief, and yes, the spectrum. Must we always collide with fellow human beings to involve ourself more fully in the facets of being human? Undeniably intertextual... Isnt everything as such?
Posted by Jo