dust to dust

You know how sometimes in the movies a character gets obliterated but you can't really tell until a breeze comes along and scatters the million particles of him to the wind? I feel like that tonight.

What once felt solid -- my principles, my wishes, my dreams, my identities, my body, all the ways I know myself to be Me -- seems to be eroding away. I hear that's a good thing, but so far it just feels weird.

If someone asks me what I think or feel or stand for, it's hard to find an answer that feels true. It feels almost silly to talk, because nothing I can say feels accurate. It's become very challenging to represent myself.

I think I've gone through this before, and if memory serves me, it's temporary. Eventually I will probably pretend to be someone again -- someone with ideas and values who can participate in discussions. But until then, I feel kinda quiet. I'd rather just sit in the sun, listen to the wind, or feel the vibration of the guitar strings on my body while I try to teach myself some chords.

I still find it very satisfying to write about my experiences, in the way that I imagine a sculptor feels satisfaction from molding the block of clay until it becomes congruent with his vision. Sometimes my experiences will resonate with other folks, but I think that's just accidental. I write near you, but not really with you or for you. And none of what I say is actually true.

Just wanted to be honest with you. But you probably knew all that already ...