a cut of the day - iv

Only the number of distractions caps that of my whims. I’ve sadly come to realise that I lose heart easily and will never stick at nothing. Aborted projects, partial writings, emerging sketches lie somewhere, plaintively, in some forlorn hopes of coming into use some day, until they pulp and smear, atomise and disappear into thin air. I command standards mightily higher than I command mastery, not least being that I enter upon matters I refuse to enter into—the gore and whiteness, the miniatures and traps of a body when anatomised, is what repels me from a direct observation. I live vicariously, in fancy and feelings, batering youth for flings, splurging over bread just for the warm smell. There's meaning in largess, and so much more of it in not seeking it.