It often seems that I live my life only in my mind, isolated inside my head. I sit in silence writing, musing, and smoking an excellent CAO. Some days, I think I experience more days fraught with thoughts than with action, with living.
I have a dull, nagging, relentless feeling that I am missing reality existing only in thought and theory.
I am either a child or an old man at times being both; I always have been both regardless chronological age. I love the wonder of things simple; I love the wonder of things complex. At times, I want to from somewhere inside me extract propensities yet to have been employed. I want to revive others stagnant far too long. .
Thoughts, ideas, ambitions, loves, energies, knowledge and beliefs, and the deeper self concealed, resurrect! Were these only flights of imagination, mere whimsy transferred from some novel read long ago, some past fact of philosophy deliberated, or some phenomenon or some obscure event observed?
With clarity, decisiveness, I respond in hast during any crisis, however minor daily ordeals, I resist. I cannot tolerate slight injustices or infractions that deviate from accepted standards, violate civil law, or general civility.
One event can unleash contradictions of musings within the no-man’s-land of my mind, the place that lies beyond the professional, the visible, the assumed, the reconciled, and the released filled with trip-wires, shell shock, and screaming meemies; I labor to reconcile and unite life with the pervasive thoughts, beliefs, and emotions, often without resolve- just more mental mayhem.
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