Long time no write, am I right? Anyway, life continues in its unstoppable forward trajectory. The best we can hope for is to maybe nudge it one way or another. Only after the consequences do we see the path we are on. Action, whether it is re, under, over or in, is always 3 seconds after the fact.
Where am I? Still lost, but closer to finding myself.
The work put in yesterday is starting to show results today. I feel less and less an outsider looking in here in Seville. It is not home. I don't know if home will ever be a thing for me from here on in. I still have the restlessness and there is so much more to see and experience.
One significant realisation has emerged in my smoky and hazy neurology, and that is the importance of creation. I am really pushing myself to be as creative as possible now that she is no longer there. Not that she stopped my creativity. In our time together I wrote a book, endless poems, created a multitude of riffs and evolved my tag styles. Now with her gone, I can truly dedicate myself to working on producing as much as possible.
In terms of the drawing, I have completed one tag and come up with a new one for my one nephew. Soon it will be complete and then I will start work on the next one. The joy of working on tags is the attention to detail that is ultimately invisible, yet entirely essential to the overall composition. Looking closely at those subtle shades between defined lines and hinted at perspective, brings ink and paper into living life.
With the writing I have flittered from idea to idea. I have drafts and drafts, stutters and starts, but I have not been able to enter the settled and long term focus needed for writing a novel. Poetry, that I have written. Pain and heartbreak are fantastic muses. It has been an endless source of therapy to squeeze the agony out onto paper, with pen held in hand. As well as the occasional shedding of one or two tears.
Then there is music, my first love.
Do I regret? Fuck yes. I wonder if I had not met her, if I had not first lusted for her, if I had not let her so completely dominate almost every aspect of my life, could I have maybe made it as a musician?
I know it was not her but me that allowed those things to happen. I was weak and in love, I allowed myself to be pushed and prodded off of my path and onto our path, the one that I once walked with her. I now wonder where that other path, my path, might have lead.
Not that any of that matters, it's merely thoughts that needed thinking, so that once pondered, they can be sorted, defined and packed away in the appropriate category of not being all that fucking useful.
Last night I was hanging out with one of the few people I have met here in Seville that I would consider a friend. We had intended to watch football. That was not fun. So I fetched my guitar. We smoked, we drank, we shared, talked shit, but most of all, we jammed. It were right brilliant.
There is a fantastic joy connected to a good quality jam. You turn the world off and tap into the flow state. Time and space disappear into the spiral, swirling around sound. A put together wave in a shape and form that at no previous point in time had ever existed apart from this momentary and temporary hear and now.
Good fun.
Where to from here? The same target that I set myself after the collapse: the never ending pursuit of being the best possible version of myself, mentally, emotionally, physically, socially and I guess, spiritually, whatever the fuck that actually means. Spirit. Have I been blind to this element of life in my quest to try to understand the universe and everything in it?
Who knows, I guess that's a thought to ponder until next time when I have time to write about the time I have spent between this time and the next.
Oh, I also met someone. It is confusing the fuck out of me. But, I don't want to overshare. Lol. JK.
