it may have had something to do with the numbers yesterday. i watched as they rose and dwindled. thought, what does it mean? what is my target number? none. i see in a day it goes from 1568 to 8. hey it's ok. but something to do with success. how it's measured. as soon as i had a small success in art i plummeted inside, i couldn't do it. i knew i could only do it when no one was looking. in a sense that's what the blog offers, there's no one who gives me the space, it's just space, and slowly slowly and from the beginning it's mine. it just exists, as ephemeral as physical life. as the life of the spirit in the world of matter and money. it's the things we can't quite articulate that we return to, kind of an addiction, but more one of seeking some elusive truth inside and not killing yourself. ah, yes, not an addiction, but a returning again and again, to yourself, to erode the addictions and to find the self that grew small inside, to love that one and release that one in an articulate way, even if it's awkward, that peculiar grace.