A Serious Whim

You're writing this on a whim, you may say, and it would be true. Yet this is in all seriousness. There is a current of compulsion, and for a moment, I do not resist it.

The conditions have not become conducive for writing. No series of objects have come into alignment. This is not a perfect moment. The carriage has pumpkinised, the alarm will ring at 6 promptly, and it has been a long day. I sit on the floor under stark, white light, and my back will not thank me. I have not bothered to make that cup of chamomile tea, accompanied by shiroi koibito (or similar), or even turned on the fan.

Even more notably, I have no knowledge of my destination. I do not know how I feel about the possibility of drifting and not ever arriving. I have not thoughtfully planned, generated and organised my ideas. I have not diligently researched. I have no blog schedule. I have no plan for the next post. I have no audience in mind, and thus will not receive that feedback all writers need with which to improve upon their craft. All I know is:

It's been too long.
Yet it could not have been sooner.
Fruit take time to ripen.
Thoughts brim over - as they do so often. So often, they flow away, far beyond recollection.
Write, I must. 

I skim words upon the surface of this pond - or is it a lake? I try to make each skip, but so many simply dive right in, making splashes of various degrees as they do. Perhaps, like each photograph I so carefully guard from the research assistants of machine learning scientists, my words will end up carefully deconstructed by them, and no one else. Except, that can't be true.

There is one pair of human eyes reading this, even now, and they are mine. They are reading intently, as I am writing, and they shall come upon these words again. And when they do, I shall be surprised again, as I was today, at the power of those words. I read those juvenilesque words, as though merely to taste the waves upon my feet, but I had not known their strength.

They have carried me, and here I am. 

It's time for bed, but the exploring shall start tomorrow.