I am obsessed with writing a memoire about studying with Marcel Marceau. It is nearing the end of the piece. I look and read the writing over and over and over again. There is a hint of addiction in this obsessive looking, reading and hearing the story over and over again.
It made me think of visual patterns for this blog. It made me think of Philip Glass. As I construct this blog it reflects back to me my own process of writing. I am addicted to my tale. I am obsessed with this blog...the way a mother can't stop looking at her newborn child. Perhaps a looking with some detachment is better. Perhaps this time in history with all the button pushing we are doing, is causing a great impatience with time. Time to reflect. Time to think. Time to act. Perhaps we have too much control over things we shouldn't.