I don’t have anything to write. Is that all right? I don’t want to make fun of people or put them down. I don’t want to poke holes in things. I don’t want to rejoice or fall asleep. I don’t want to prove anything to anyone. I don’t want to be bothered with the proofs of the world. I don’t want to look outside.
I don’t like the following phrases:
“Think outside the box.”
“At the end of the day.”
“On the same page.”
Why is there a box? And for what reason would I be thinking inside of it? I know it’s a metaphor. But why not a circle? 2D. Why not a sphere? I like to think outside the sphere!! No?! The box is so cubic. Oh, I get it. Think outside the cubicle. If I could think outside the cubicle, then why the fuck would I sit in it in the first place?
Everyone can pick up a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. These are the physical tools of many trades. Orwell wrote, ‘Big Brother is watching you.’ Einstein scribbled the definition of gravity. Vincent van Gogh used his for a starry night, while Mozart’s was a stage for a symphony. The tools open a portal to the mind.
I am the only thing holding me back. I won’t change the world with anything I write, but I might change someone’s understanding of it and that, in my mind, would be enough.
I might be too far away from today, maybe tomorrow’ll be closer. I don’t expect to understand, too high to examine the detail of bland.