Been thinking a lot about writing something other than this, something not about myself.

Remember writing some biographical portraits when I was in college and feeling frustrated that they seemed to be more about myself, my professor wrote something about them like 'You need to get out of the way and let things come through.' When I think about it now, I don't think they were so much about myself as that a whirring vortex of symbols took over everything. Abstract objects so often seem more real to me than other people or myself, really, I guess that should be troubling, it's the opposite of troubling, people are troubling. The more I think about myself, the more I slip away.

I've recently had some experiences of beauty more perfect than I anticipated ever having, it's really shaken me up, trying to figure out what to do with them. I think I need to make them into something, I don't know what, don't know that I'm up to it, seems like a big responsibility, they deserve to be made into something good, something joyful and I have so much darkness inside, I don't want to pollute them, I want other people to see what's possible.