I do like where I'm at, and where I've come from. Sure, there have been speedbumps, potholes, traffic lights, and unsavory drivers. But this road trip is chuggin' along. I feel like I've hit a good speed, have open road, and have set the cruise control, and the engine is playing a soothing tune as it hums along the road with me.
I've made some connections to more ways of doing what I want to do with my life. I'm acting on my thoughts more, and obsessing a little less, it seems. It's still there, though. The perfectionism. Some paranoia. Some insecurity. Some self-bashing. Some distorted thinking. But the stew is simmering, and there's a natural boil that stirs the elements of the stew, bringing things up from the depths of my unconscious to the surface, where I can observe them with my awareness. Is the surface of the stew actually a layer of perception, of consciousness itself?
I haven't been writing here as much as I did the last couple of years. But I have regular check-ins still, having posted at least once a month all year so far... But I am still writing. Besides writing for Quiet Mike a couple times, I have also been writing the old fashioned way. Long hand pen and paper. Not to mention messages via email and Facebook. I'm getting at the "stuff", the core matter that swims in the stew, beneath the surface, and outside of perception. I cannot see or smell or hear every little mushroom that is in the stew. But I may have seen one bubble up here and there, and I have a good feeling that there are several in there.
Here I go talking about stew again. I think it might be time to revisit the stew.
I will go back to the origins of my maiden forage into fiction and publish Primordial Stewage.
Primordial Stewage is what Thistle Penn crawled out of, where he begins, and where he shall end. He's an ingredient of the stew. And he is also the stew. The stew is him, too.
So look for it here, on Tripolarity. Coming soon. Primordial Stewage.