Perpetually. Perpetually I’m thinking, asking questions and tepidly or desperately seeking answers. There’s been the sick attempts at the profound (why are we bound to the language were taught to define ourselves and others?) and the uber lame our utterly perverse which need not be mentioned here.
In any event, the only time I’m thinking the questions and begging the answers is when I’m miles away from paper and pen, computer. Or blackberry at that. I’m not logging the thoughts, and so while I’m riding on public transit, maybe thinking I’m brilliant or inspired or have some thought some freelancer might dream to be the next big thing (i.e. an article for profit), all likely to the soundtrack of my own imagining, I’m basically busted and broken and bankrupt and beyond likely to forget the whole dang thang. I think that’s the essence of a twenty-something imagination… we catch (21) some passing thought, cling to it for a moment or ride that may feel like eternity, or at least until the ever so inspiring song comes to an end, and boom and bust baby, it’s instaneously forgotten as fast as it came.
the point here itself is lost as I’m heading out the door. rhetoric and jumbles, rhetoric and jumbles.
