IT IS EITHER A PLATEAU OR THE BEGINNING of an end. February brought with it this year a strange introspection (yes, beyond my normal, solipsistic overthinking), one of a higher intensity or order of magnitude than in years prior. I literally feel like some astral projection of myself, having taken a step back from my life, turning my domestic routines into a boring third-person shooter. It creates both a numbness and a calm, a balance and a borderline Surreal disconnect from work, cleaning, driving, what have you.
I was reminded of a never-finished short story I started years ago about a man going through this very thing.
"And yet at the same time his patience seemed to be deepening. Someone had pointed the nozzle of his hostility for the banalities around us straight down or in. Moments what, at one time would have resulted in a display of emotional fireworks, now were sent straight into the ground or, God forbid, directly back into the host...It could be likened to the effect of drunkenness. Left floating int he eddies of the room, the world seemed to speed by oblivious to his needs or wants. For him the stings of failure, adversity, and even disgust had lost their barb, provoking a slower reaction and one always keening toward mere disappointment." (from "The Third Person" ca. 2009)
And so life becomes art.
It feels also like change, a pupa stage. Maybe I'll use it to do things I normally wouldn't. Take chances normally eschewed because of routine. Who knows? Maybe I will.