An arbitrary flipping of the calendar boxes happens, where I’m
like everybody else – somehow convincing myself this means a difference, that
this year will be a new beginning of realizing my artistic ambitions and
cultivating a more stable financial life, that last year was a bad anomaly in a
long string of reflections of my own outlook, that the fact the calendar resets
actually means something magic. Many days, I feel like I’m no closer to where I
was dreaming of being than ever, like it’s this unattainable mountain peak, and
though I’m not in the same valley I began, I’m just meandering sideways around
other paths, avoiding obstacles, finding new ones, and I’m literally just as
far as I ever was. And when I think about this naturally as mountain metaphor,
of course the myth of Sisyphus comes up again, that I’m pushing these dreams up
a hill when they’re just gonna tumble back down again, no matter how right I
push them. Fuck it y’all – life life.
No comments:
Post a Comment