I don't know who I was kidding. That I would spend the last week and a half loosening my intense and demanding control of self and then slowly gaining it back -- in the dirtiest, most intellectual and anti-intellectual ways, in the emotional ways that have nothing to do with (d)anger. That I would work today, drive home, settle into some habitually pre-ordained routine that gave me time to imagine that my life wasn't mine to screw up and fulfill past - far far past - what I've considered its potential.
No. I came home, poured myself a glass of wine and proceeded (right up until this very second, continuing through this second) to realize that I have fallen a little bit in love with, for one thing, chaos.
This is already too abstract... I cannot help but delete every sentence after I write it. Each deletion solidifies My Want.
One eye writes a sentence; one eye deletes the same sentence. And this opposition feels like.
Like hands to your throat, love letters to the moon, flash photographs in a shower at night, earthy vocabulary for lofty dreams.
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In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.
Carl Jung
“Where there is chaos there is usually the greatest opportunity”
Mark Lubell, managing director of Magnum Photography
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