Today

I confess. I enjoy writing in puzzles and conflicting images because I can have no idea of what I am writing when I am at it, and derive a whole world of meaning from it. This way of composing and looking at my own compositions as though I am outside myself gives me a sense of subdued excitement, and a new way of understanding my own thoughts as if a scientist is examining a specimen with his array of precise instruments while being a little mistaken about it being a perfectly objective observation for such a thing really does not exist. Oh well, you get what I mean.

Today, I decide to let myself go, you know, to loosen my tightly clenched fists, not to let my excitement killed by the possibility of failure or looking like a fool. Basically not to care so much about being right or wrong and be happy. It would not be hard I guess, perhaps just the sort of thing that comes when it is truly welcomed.