For Some Reason I Felt Compelled to Write This Essay Today

For some reason I felt compelled to write an essay today. But I didn't really begin with a topic, any ideas, or a plan. This is the worst of the rambling mope-rants because there is not a particular focus today. We just don't know where we're going.

It feels as if yesterday lingers and nothing important is coming to me. It's there but it's log-jammed somehow. Somewhere. I had no real focus yesterday but it was "justifiable" like the war and peace. I had things to do. So that made sense. But today is different.

I have no malaise, no problems...just out of executable ideas for today. This is my personal hell by the way, so I thought I'd share it with you. You're welcome! The problem is, like the TGA, I always fret that this is it, my new state: Empty chamber. Meh, who am kidding?

So, what remains of the backlog then? What's waiting in the queue? Let's go to the noteboooks. These are the only unresolved/backlog notes in my main notebook:

109 Cities
14 Countries
10 Sub-continental regions
6 Continents
1,611 + 730 = 2,341
4:36

Resolved! But meaningless and forgotten notes do not art make. [Autobiographer, they're all yours to analyze]

My pocket notebook, on the other hand, mostly contains meeting notes, random algebraic gibberish, drawings by the progeny, and an order for Indian take-out for six (Marcy wanted her aloo gobi with "easy oil" I see - is that even possible?).

And this:

Shilling Yokels
vs.
Condescending Liberals

I have no idea what I was referencing there. Perhaps something about politics or something to do with my love-hate relationship with "society." Something but I can't remember what I was onto there. Also, the kiddo wrote the word, "SPORECUT" in my pocket notebook. She likes to "borrow" my notebook from time to time.

I know. I could have a real problem to whine about. Hunger. Poverty. War. AIDS. Victimization. The state of my being. Naw, I'm good, don. A fine mist of diamonds rain upon my shoulders. The baby Jesus smiles. Maybe I could take my own advice and take a step back and be grateful or some guru shit. In fact, there's tons of good friend and family advice that I try to keep in mind, but still...it's December. And you know what I'm saying.

So what's left then? What remains are The Big Projects. As the easy minor projects run their natural courses, the big ones are revealed to be up for execution. It's like the performance after the rehearsals; the same but different. The cheese stands alone, right? I have several major-works projects in my mind. Five major avenues are queued for exploration, in fact. I've mentioned most of them here. But that's what's left. These are the hard ones. This is where it really begins.

The monster for 2010 will be balancing a significant execution and paradigm ramp-up on minuscule budgets; the balance of intent with expectation with reaction; how to make money without perverting the plan; how to stay intellectually fed without losing artistic sight; balancing returns versus sacrifices.

Perhaps the real smoke monster is named "balance." Balance. Focus. Balance & Focus. Maybe this rambling mope-rant in my moment of neutrality is not a personal nightmare after all. If I get lost, somebody point me back her, will ya'? Perhaps we are warming closer to epiphany. But what do I know? Nothin'! That's what! And Happy Hanukkah, tribe-mates.

# SPORECUT #