It is not quite a lull, no. I don't know what it is. But there
is the sheer anger and fear that you know something happened, and you weren't
there to prevent it. I haven't played guitar in weeks. Not just
days, but weeks. I'm starting to think I may never be able to play to my
best ability ever again. That's a terrifying thought. Maybe it'll
all be over soon. Nothing is set in concrete. Nothing is
comfortable. I'm not working towards anything. There's no goals in
mind. Even existence is unnatural.
There's too many flakey people out there. They can't be real, they just
can't deal. I've aged overnight. My youth is long behind me.
I just want to lie down and go away. Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose?
No, it is Joaquin's. I'm so weak. Why do I even bother? Will
time move today? Maybe, but it will still be me who suffers.
I don't have anything important to say. I'm done. It's time to try
and focus and do other things. Well maybe try to focus. Let's see
what comes of it.
Joaquin out.
