the big step

that was the week i came to realize my impending financial destitution. last night i scraped a dime off the floor of a convenience store. i must ascend above my fear of a job sucking away my time and self and stoically proceed to sell myself part-time at least. i am not real-world enough and it is a weakness. making some dollars here and there helps significantly. I much prefer it to the predictable world of pay cheques.

i am perpetually conflicted with my desire to be truthful and the outer demons which coax me into mediocrity, cliché, and expected behavior. i chopped off my hair this week and i already feel closer to myself. torn between this action being vain or an act of un-attachment. I was told that i was concentrating very hard when yoda spoke in the movie the other night, and its true. how lame.

trying to decide which modernist painting i should write on, really want to write on Duchamp's "explosion in a shingle factory" as one critic puts it. i think its perfect.

read about Sartre and De Beauvoir all morning in bed with black ,black coffee. I am far too hooked on reading biographies of writers. I think I have read ten this year. I wish I could read everything at once. I need to push myself towards devotion. entire devotion to only walks, reading, writing, and spending no money. going to start to sell off my belongings. I need to get off all of theses “ideas” and act. “If man is nothing he can only justify himself by doing.”