Alone. There is something to be said about being alone, and I mean not feeling most lonely when in a crowd. I mean solitude, when there is nothing but you and an inanimate world. Back before my last episode, I lived alone, spent much time in solitude, nothing between me and the world except perhaps a couple cathode ray tubes. Loneliness came and went, I recall, but being one of one was more than that. A lot of thought was involved. When I was alone, there was many a time when I was lost in thinking, and I mean not in a madness imagination, but an intense cogitation dealing with one or more dreams I was pursuing. I was alone with purpose, at times a high, at times a low — but all with meaning.
I have something like it, now, having a room where I have all the creature comforts (two computers, a TV with digital cable, a boom box, and a bookshelf full of books), but it's not the same. I am always aware of what is outside my door, the people I live with and their activities. I miss the quiet, the sense that no one else wanders your space — that it is just me and the world, and there is nothing but me and the quest that is my life. Maybe I just have not adjusted to the idea of many, that I have been too used to the idea of one. But in the alone, there was much soliloquy; even if I never spoke it, there was a poetry in my living I that I now miss. Perhaps I will find new art in the many, but for now, I will miss this one being one.
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11:25am sunday, 8th december
I understand what you mean. That's why I live in the country. Too many people around me make me physically and psychically sick. Somehow they suck out your life force. But we aren't meant to be always alone, humans are mammals and need lovers, friends, family. This is the big dilemma for most creative people I think.
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