Pointless

Everything feels old and pointless: what am I to write?

Tell them stories.

What stories?

The stories you told Yair.

Exactly. That’s what feels old and pointless. It’s like – the cow has been milked. Who cares? I feel weird being here at Mikey’s. It’s strange how I can feel so fluent and awesome around some people, and then so awkward and useless around others. How come I can’t express myself? How come I feel like I’m trying to connect with Chinese minds? And what about this writing? I don’t know where to start.

Start at the beginning. Start in New York.

Yes. Very good. Words repeated from my past. That’s helpful. Except we’ve already written that one, remember?

What about re-writing it?

What about re-writing it? Do you think anybody cares? Do you think I care?

I was twenty the first time I left England. I bought a ticket on a whim, a month’s break to escape a life that had become boring and tedious and depressing, dissatisfaction driving me on to a search for something better the way it has done ever since.

And when I get there I get frustrated and bored and, not that I feel it can’t be done, but that I feel like I don’t want to do it. Tell you what, I’ll do an I Ching.

And I get: 29 The Abysmal. Talks of proceeding through danger – not going back – but with a general vibe of not now, to wait. Changing lines 3, 4 and 5. Particularly: “escape is out of the question, we must not be misled into action,” and, “great labours cannot be accomplished in such times, proceed along the line of least resistance.”

And so that’s it. No trying – for now. Wait. Do what comes naturally. Don’t strain. Just live…