Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I extend apologies to anyone I owe correspondence to ... I feel very uncommunicative these days, and actually, let me amend this sentence without deleting and re-keying, I do not apologize for the state I'm in or my behavior, just the results, because this is just the way it is, I am here as I am right now with these particular blocks and hang-ups and what else? I do not know, but to Kris, Pat, Tim and others, I simply cannot communicate in a traditional manner thus far in 2012. My writer's block is deep enough that even the most basic one-line email response feels beyond me (never mind my more lofty designs, which currently languish in hopes of inspiration) ... I fight even through this paragraph, some kind of blanket apology to those it may apply to (you can decide for yourself if you fit this category), in hopes that more productive personal missives will surface in days to come, hopefully as a result of this exercise in blowing out cognitive cobwebs (and descriptives of such caliber). No?

I have wholly ignored Facebook for about two months now, and the change has been refreshing. I can't articulate what it is that feels discordant and dissociative about living that fully online, for so many years it felt freeing and seemed to add to rather than sap my real-world energies, but right now, no. I can't know or share daily moments in real time as I used to, they actually make me feel lonely and disconnected rather than engaged. So many people I have loved who I cannot be with in real time, constantly updating me with the minutia of lives I cannot take part in ... it's addicting in the true sense of the word, creating desperate cravings that can never know satisfaction, and my separation had to be severe. I'll be logging on again soon to take stock and evaluate future Facebook needs (I'll likely continue monitoring various band sites via a proxy), but even that final act feels oppressive.

As I mentioned in my previous, clumsily poetic entry, the Spring months of Michigan are upon us and the air is beautiful. My batteries quietly charge as long as I don't watch the levels rise. Discussions about future Great Tribulation experiments are underway, I return even tonight to Backseat to continue work on a handful of new End Times tracks, and spontaneous visits to friends in the flesh no longer confound or conflict. I stagger upwards.