I just had one of those naked dreams. You know the sort I mean, the ones where you’re totally naked. Nothing erotic, you just do normal stuff, working in an office, walking into shops, it’s just that you’re not wearing any clothes. I think it probably means I’m feeling vulnerable.
I think my problem at the moment is that I don’t have any passion in my life, I don’t feel passionate about anything. I don’t mean people, though that too. But I don’t really, deeply care about anything. I don’t want to save the world, it’s bent on destruction anyway, nothing I do is going to make a difference. I don’t want to make my village a better place to live, again, there are too many people wanting different things, some things are bound to get worse and some might get better, and life goes on and that’s just the way it. I don’t want to save my marriage, ditto. There is just nothing in my life at the moment that I really care about – well, I care about my kids, but I don’t feel that requires me to do anything just at present, if they need anything from me, they’ll let me know.
Maybe this is another aspect of that sense of detachment I was talking about a couple of weeks ago. The world goes on without me. I can be as nihilistic as I choose, and no one will take any notice. It doesn’t matter. Well, maybe nihilism is too strong a word. Maybe it’s just good old honest-to-goodness apathy. I’m not even passionate enough to be nihilistic.
A couple of years ago, I was feeling that I was wasting my life because I wasn’t dong anything externally, a proper ‘job’. Now I am doing plenty of those, and being appreciated for it by others, though I think the value of what I’m doing is pretty questionable. But what am I doing inside myself? I’m doing nothing for me, nothing that grabs me and fires me and sets my soul alight and my heart singing, and all those other clichés, after all, how can a heart sing, mostly all they do is make a ‘whump, whump, whump’ noise.
I’m struggling to write this morning. Only 400 so far. Where are the words when I want them? They’re still there, don’t worry, they’re always there. As long as you don’t think, as long as you don’t try to say anything profound, or interesting, you can say what the hell you want. But I haven’t done any disciplined writing for ages and ages. This stuff doesn’t count, it just takes me anywhere, anywhere it wants to go, and I shrug and go along with it, too apathetic to put up any resistance. And I still haven’t quite hit the magic 500 yet. So, turn the crank again, let another couple of sentences spew out, then that’s it.