I feel like I do all my living and breathing and dying on the inside, and by the time I finally feel ready to share what’s been happening, it’s already old news.
Charles Mingus, an American jazz musician, said “I’m trying to play the truth of what I am. The reason it’s difficult is because I’m changing all the time.”
Like how the cells on different body parts get replaced every few weeks or months or years. I feel like my brain restructures itself creatively and philosophically every ten days, so if I don’t hustle and share the rough drafts of what I’m thinking, it’ll soon be irrelevant. Stale old thoughts from a person who doesn’t even exist anymore.
Just gotta get comfortable with leaving a paper trail. No longer hiding ideas away in a locked drawer, but tucking them away into little nooks and crannies accessible to other people.