The Age of Reason

...means no room for ambiguity because even ambiguity is somehow a terminus for things unsaid. Monday morning, coffee and cigarettes, a full hamper and a filthy kitchen. On a good day none of these things bother me, but today it all obscures a diaphanous path to clarity. How can one mute the mind for an instant without forcing sleep? It's terrifying sometimes the places my mind wanders. I have flash backs of old relationships in the most banal memories or a glimpse of the future when my mom is frail and old or even gone. Ryan comments on the cyclical topics of conversation we have, redundant frustrations with people and they ways they continue to fall short of expectations. Being an all around asshole, it sounds like. I'm growing bitter and entitled, two things I don't really want but see no alternative that isn't glazed in insincerity. I dont believe cynicism is inherently realism but I've gotten to a place where even the ideal is cynical and the real isn't on the radar at all. Creatively I'm satisfied I suppose. Personal stimulation isn't waning, but the threat of an overwhelmingly solipsistic worldview is dulling the excitement. I need to believe there's something out 'there' for me. I need to believe there's something else.