lemme take a moment and explain this quality of constant wistfulness. i'm recently realizing, amid my vivid analogies, how much of an enigma i am. or..the void of identity i associate with. perhaps it's just me being mopey. perhaps. it's not empty anymore, nowadays, like, it's just constantly pondering/asking/obsessing over "why?what of where to go and what to do.
i have no intention of being philosophical (have you been traumatized by logic under the guise of socrates? no?). I tend to be thinking what to do now, later, if i could conjure up a time machine and go back to me in the '90s. i'm in a state of wondering.
totally separate from other things going on/i instigated. it's mostly good ol' nostalgia from living in a house with a basement and a cherry tree in the backyard--somewhere i had ambition to be great, guys giving me their self-drawn self-portraits willingly, an idea of what was real.