“Everything is blooming most recklessly.”—Rilke
Creative destruction: the act of dismantling a symbol representing what one will no longer settle for; getting rid of something incapable of driving one to where he or she needs to go. Sort of like a cicada crawling out of that weird tan shell and fluttering away without it. They say in order to live free and happily, you have to give up boredom [and clutter, and safety nets]; and that can be the most difficult sacrifice of all. I’m not sure what heaps of old-car parts and random gears and gadgets in my brain are causing the clutter and crying out for dismantling and removal. But one thing’s for sure: It’s pre-spring-cleaning time. Static fuzz, take a walk.
“You live in a place between the sound and the fury,” he told her. “It bears no resemblance to anything else and yet feels like home.” And this: "I was struck when I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the window while we rode the subway. We look good together. And I worried that you're going to break my heart."
The essayist Logan Perssall Smith said: “There are two things to aim at in life. First to get what you want, and after that to enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second.” His words loop through my head as seasonably sunny, cold winds kiss my cheeks. There’s a lot to feel hopeful for; one need only trust herself enough to find a creative way through the bog.
“Nothing is random, nor will anything ever be…Even electrons, supposedly the paragons of unpredictability, are tame and obsequious little creatures that rush around at the speed of light, going precisely where they are supposed to go.” – Mark Helpin
I had a dream recently without vision. It was only my voice, trying to determine whether when people die they stop being able to answer our questions; or if we stop being able to ask them. I waked. I smiled.
Today's another day, and we're all still here.