the only diagnosis that matters is

i’ve been telling myself recently that my only obligation is to make the things i want to make. what happens afterward, how they are received, whatever sort of numbers they do, none of that is my concern or business. it’s been freeing to think in this way, and in the spirit of that, tonight’s entry:

i’ll be on the road again come wednesday. i don’t exactly have the important things sorted out but for whatever reason, im not so worried. im excited for two reasons:

one: hopefully ill be able to sleep on a good bloody fucking pillow soon. The entire time I’ve been out here I haven’t been able to get a good nights rest because the pillow i got is just such utter shit. i could never bring myself to buy a new one because I (as always) was thinking “well eventually when I have to fly out of here, dealing with a pillow would be a hassle”. My major malfunction is that I’m stuck in the past and can’t imagine a prolonged or stable future so I have a hard time behaving in ways congruent with a creature operating on an extended timeline. I have some ideas on how I’d like to decorate my next space (frutiger aero vibes) but I don’t act on them because that would mean I’m staying there, I’m staying still, I’ll be alive.

two: it used to be scary not having any clue where i was going to sleep as i bounce from spot to spot, but yesterday as i thought about my impending travels i noticed a feeling of familiarity and even comfort. it doesn’t matter where Im going, i’ll never be home, because home for me is the spaces between. the anticipation of what’s yet to come, the curiosity of what i’ll discover and who i’ll meet, this usually occupies my mind as i must maintain awareness for survival or fateful encounters on the road, meaning that i suppose i have less time to navel gaze. Or rather, brooding over endlessly melancholic musings is much more enjoyable with a beautiful mountain in view, or when one is facing the ocean.

try as I may, i cannot relinquish the morbidity of my perceptions and paradigms, if there is any trait or description that can define me it is this:

“the creature known to some as “sinclair” was so obsessed and pre occupied with the idea of their death, that they did not truly live at all.”

I’m always thinking about one end or another. When I write or make videos especially, a big part of the framing in my mind is how they’ll ring once i’m dead.

will they say “he was prescient of his demise.” ?

i am and perhaps have always been haunted,but im not sure i wish to be free.

“stockholm syndrome for the grim reaper?”

“How Quaint!”

we are all laughing together in my head.

I imagine the moment several times every single day.

I know I will be terrified! But I also know I’ll be glad to go.