This day was like this:

morning breakfast with usual chai cups, giving my dad his diabetes meds, um…
putting on pix 11 news, showering, etc.
surfing the web, getting up, thinking about nothing,
…

this is not about serendipity to start,
then what? this acute eerie feeling I have, like a
vacuum silently sucking away the life’s force. All this
just sitting here at the dining table on a cold grey day.
Like knowing all my activities lead to nowhere and back
into the void, i.e., they won’t take me anywhere.
But maybe instead, it’s a pain; like pain from reading and
absorbing information. I read a
novel about Nietzsche, “I Am Dynamite”. Now it’s Jung,
“Labyrinths”, and exactly now, it’s a NYTimes article about
Joan Didion’s new book, “I’ll Tell You What I Mean”.
But why?
Why am I reading all this or any other thing of information?
I suppose I am very unsatisfied with the benefits. What are the
perks? I don’t discuss with anyone. I am not in a book club. I
don’t even like to read. I’ll forget it all by the end of the week;
any detail of nuance anyway.
My therapist tells me to make the things that are bothersome
explicit. That’s why I am doing this you. And here I was
derailing him for being general – for someone else. So let’s make
whatever explicit.
Now I am in Saturn’s antardasha. Time is seemingly on my mind.
It most likely the culprit for feeling crummy. All that I do is meaningless,
but more to the point time-intensive. I never felt time to be a
commodity before. With so much out there, and so little focus, my
stress level is rising. I spend more time pacing. What can I do?
I can’t stay sitting for long, that I already know. Time can’t be
stopped, and is slow in all the wrong ways. I have wanted too
much for too long. Wanting too much requires too much time.
Now I’ll need to find a way to want less, but that’s easier said
than done.
How my mind is dull. So words flow out without structure, and
might have meaning, but really just noise. So like this:
jump-up-and-down, rope-skipping, etc. What are thiese ideas about?
Random noise that flows into my thoughts but don’t really have
substance. So a dull mind allows this type of penetration of noise and might
attribute excessive meaning when really it’s just fluff. I insist, my mind is dull.
Yes, I’m tired and when I have energy I cannot sit still, except right now I suppose.
I need more time. I am good at wasting time, but that’s not really true.
I don’t have the successes I need. If I don’t succeed in painting I will never be happy.
Once again, I don’t feel the optimism of days. I am in the town, but I don’t
want to be here, or more so, I don’t want any of them to be here. Them is the
community of naysayers I attract.
It seems to me regarding color, that if one doesn’t insist, then the right to use
is diminished. The right to use, that also means going right when using. However,
this is an intuitive idea, I cannot know unless I really dive into the idea, and like I said
I just don’t have the time. Many of my thoughts are based on intuition. Happens quite
a lot.
What is this existential threat I keep hearing about? I don’t feel grounded, not real.
This lack of grounding, it seems to me, is cause for many
problems that arise. How can one ever feel satisfied if one is not fully present in the world?
Does this existential threat give credence to idolatry? But first I must know, if existential implies
a division, or unification, rather nullification. I insist that any form of knowing, i.e., awareness,
still remains in a divisive mode of being.