question(s):
what is it about ambiguity and transparency? why do i live in a brain that prefers the ambiguous? but desires the transparent? what do these words mean? & where is the line that divides them? where is the point that separates ambiguity from transparency? & what does that point look like? can one live on that point? that demarcation line? that razor's edge? this is how i write. i ask myself questions. i seem to have a lot of questions. about just about everything - but most times relating back to myself - my relationship to these everythings - these questions. this me-ness in relation to the world at large. this microcosm in the macrocosm. what is this constant questioning? this confusion with the given? existentialism? narcissism? individual schism-ism? hm... well... i somehow just don't believe anything i see, hear, or take in through the 5 senses. i must question - look deeper. it's somehow a natural part of my make-up. and one question leads to another and then another and another. i am not sure i ever find answers in any concrete sense. but i am aware of a kind of completion of a question. i sometimes just find myself knowing. understanding. not having an answer, but knowing on some more basic level. like the circle of the question has been completed. in fact, as i write this i am for the first time actually seeing how the mechanism of my questions work. it seems more scientific than anything. its almost like if a question is asked it must - via some universal law - circle back around. complete itself. be done. it must find its tail and swallow it. maybe... i ask myself questions because i have no answers - & i don't know what else to do. in order to understand something. anything. everything. i question. i write because - i question. & i discipline (sic). or because i am disciplined. i have given myself a writing schedule. and so i write. i write daily. at a certain point i decided that this was important. at that same certain point it seemed life & death to me that i write... and this life & death actuated the force needed to establish the habit of writing. the write habit. and, thus, i turned myself into a being who writes. now... question: am i a writer? ha! another conundrum to be offered to the gods... and waited for - to come back around and swallow its tail...
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