The chasm inside is yawning a little harder than usual today. The batteries in my pen died. The sparks aren't flying. It will all come back. But it's just frustrating waiting for them to do so. Staring at a page full of sentences, notes, and symbols and scouring them for a punchline that isn't there is horribly exhausting to the trusty old patience.
Thinking I can get from Stage 1.1 to Stage 1.2 and Stage 1.3 faster than other people is pretty goddamned foolish, isn't it? "Oh, I'll be able to do it a little quicker because I really want to." The stones are laying themselves seemingly faster than I can imagine covering them. Bleeeeeech too much future in my head. I will be funny now and then I will be funny tomorrow. If I can keep doing that then we'll call that not losing.
I've been exposing myself to new music. And re-exposing myself to old music. And that chasm yawns all the more. Thrusting my heart into songs that cultivate feelings that I seek desperately, but have shown themselves empirically to be beyond the realm of achievement (α = 0.01). Stepping sometimes firmly on stones I know to turn red and cause the steam to come shooting back. Often it is counterproductive to dwell on such matters. Slopes slicken. But sometimes that steam turns the turbines.
Then I read old xkcd for two hours. Aiding nothing. Good night.