It’s 5:55 on a Saturday, late August. I have the creeps, I don’t know why. I’m not anxious. I just have the creeps. It’s sort of ridiculous to. I suppose I feel a bit like something from the past is going to come back to haunt me in some way. Is’t that odd? I don’t know that I’ve felt that way ever in my waking life. I know I have experienced that feeling in dreams, particularly, with one recurring dream in which I may have killed someone and buried their body in the back yard of (it’s always) my house (in Harwichport). I suppose I have to ask myself do I really miss my life in Harwichport. In so many ways I did. But I don’t think I really liked it much. I need a walking town. This is becoming extremely clear to me. It’s why I like Belfast but there really isn’t all that much going on there. But that’s okay too. It could be Portland. I don’t know. I wish I knew. I wish I knew why I was so convinced of things and then I’m not. It makes me wonder if I’m not a bit kooky.
I think of other people of modest to moderate means and what they do. Not all, although many, of my friends are gazillionaires. I have friends who work in New York, maybe they own their apartment there or they rent and own a house elsewhere, something small, on the Island or something. It’s not for me. I am luck in that if nothing truly could-be spectacular on the horizon pans out, I can do what I do from anywhere. I really can. I can get a small house in Sicily or Sardinia or in Gascony or, sure, in Maine somewhere, too, and still have an apartment in Paris or in Boston or both. I like going to New York but I don’t feel I want to have to live there at this time, or probably ever. Anyway, I’m trying to verbalize any thoughts I have about this creepy feeling to try to get to the core of it; though I suspect it isn’t any one thing, but a number of factors contributing to this compounded sensation.
It’s very possible that the creeps are the release of something that is no longer serving me, therefore the increasing absence of a feeling rather than one creeping in or up on me. I have always been someone who has heaped a lot on his own plate and perhaps, as a result, I haven’t driven far enough into any one direction. I characterize this as a Libra thing, being prismatic in one’s approach to creativity and manfestation. The whole renaissance man thing. And it might serve me well to be more laser as I move forward. I also think I need to accelerate this release of the creeps, as I’m experience them, by forgiving myself for my part in any past disappointments or disassociations. I imagine that would be quite beneficial. I also think that I could be more clever and executive and also throw out a bunch of old possessions I’ve been hanging onto out of fear for survival, or the preservation of some identity or sense of belonging, that have become visual reminders, now, of a past I’ve been long passed out of.
Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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