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writing in notebooks in bars
sometimes i think my life would be a lot easier if i didn't think so much. quite simply, things would be simpler. i'd be happier. lighter. i'd be easier to swap small talk with, and i'd carry on conversations without pause. i wouldn't look past your words or actions. i wouldn't even notice your possible intentions, or categorize everyday situations into greater human dramas.
but i'm plagued with thought. annoying, burdensome, overanalytical thought. i wear it like skin and i can't seem to climb out. it makes it difficult to just be. and nearly impossible to settle into the crowd. i suppose it is good to not just live, but be conscious of living. but it can’t be good to always look at the world with both eyes glued open. where can one find the middle ground? it makes me feel like i'm living my life from the outside looking in. it makes me sit alone at bars in clubs and write in purse-sized notebooks while the bands play.
life consists in what a man is thinking of all day.
- ralph waldo emerson
thinking: the talking of the soul with itself.