Slight delay

Perhaps there's a reason. Not any particular reason, but a general reason. I've been too busy to be writing down my thoughts recently, but it's about time I got back into it. This struck me as necessary because I haven't been the happiest recently. Maybe it's a consequence of me brooding too much on the reasons for living and doing things, the reasons for getting up in the morning. Perhaps it's my growing fascination with the fact that people just 'do', without thinking about why or what they're doing it for.

The solution I came up with, and how to defeat this blues is to say that the reason for living is just that- to 'do', and from that everything fits into place. Meaning comes from consequence. If we never 'did' there'd never be anything done and we'd constantly analyse everything as to how it fitted into the purpose of life, which we didn't know. Every one of us has done something, and does something every day. These things may not necessarily go beyond the rigours of daily life, but nonetheless they fill up our existence.

Once we have come to terms with the fact that we're here to survive, to try our hardest to live, - that is our purpose - we have to then deal with our free time. Art is our free time, it's a demonstration that we don't need to fill that time with mundane existence: living. It's our reflection on the pointless, whatever form that takes.

If you start seeing the pointlessness in everything around you, that people just don't notice the delicate fabric of existence, that they just see the surface of what's happening, it becomes a vicious circle that you can't escape. You must emancipate yourself from it by creating, by doing something outside the norm. I'm not sure you even need to get people to stand up and listen, just doing it for your own welfare is good enough in some instances.

Enough. I must get off the train now and consummate my life.