I’ve only just realized how little the world around matters of late. My mind hasn’t left it’s mysterious home in my head for almost two months now. Friends point out that I’ve missed outings, parties, events. I don’t even register their complaints. I have so much going on. Every night I am left with a todo list longer than the one I made in the morning. Mastering tunes from my past on the ukulele, learning to analyze data using a new programming language, sketching with the 12 colored pencils a girl in Romania sent me, keeping my grip on the Chinese language, writing my book, cooking new dishes, exercising, checking my blood sugar, ETbloodyC. It’s as if I haven’t needed anyone these past two months. Haven’t needed them for stimulation that is. I’ll always need people. But a change in priorities can dull your surroundings. How many people fleeing a burning building look at the art on the walls? The world around me is that art. I have so many fires burning right now. Burning passions that I can’t and don’t want to dose with water. I love the flicker. I love the flame. It’s almost like I’m dooming myself to never accomplish any one thing… but instead die of exhaustion- happy effort. A dead smiling man on a pile of beautiful artwork and projects one stroke from completion. At least it gives the next generation something to do apart from texting their nuts off.