1/26/92

Life is hunger.

Fasting from this hunger is the opening, the face of my original self.

My journey is outside, outside the house and car, outside of myself. Wandering outside, wondering about the inside.

Life? A day, a month, years. Filled with interaction, with the world and my own manifestation, projected from what? I speculate on an inner self I only know by observing it's projected world. Observed by a mind I do not trust nor control. Pretty grim. An inner dialogue. The thought of capturing it, analysing it for themes, cycles, clues. A scientific approach, dated, sorted, the concept of life as a learning experience. I have no indication that this is so, as I modify and correct.

Hunger and habits. The routines of lifes dance. Not yeilding to habit is fasting, letting go of the known.

2/1/93

My habits let me turn away, to relax in the arms of a passive death.

As I sit belly full of excess. With only the thoughts of fasting from habits that control and numb.