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The very bones of cliche

Striped Peak, December, 2008

Today I’m painstakingly doubtful of my ability to say anything of note in this project- everything I’m coming up with seems mere scaling of the usual cliches- on many levels. The perspective of history and industry is not a static thing, ever changing in a crucible of science, demand and public opinion. I’m not convinced I have the mental chops to be here. I generally try to work above my skill set, but this feels different. The void feels altogether different here than staring out into the Pacific, and it irritates me when I try to use the same meter on it.

Who the hell am I, anyway? I liked the initial project idea of charting my own evolving opinions, but surely this is an old trick; and the fact is I’m relatively static in my own buffeting ignorance, or indifference. The winds don’t move me so much as muss my hair. This feels like getting old,  a brain pinching shut. What happens next? The suspense is excruciating.  Ok, maybe not so much.