I woke up one morning about three weeks ago feeling very different, something new in my gut that didn’t have a human name to put to it. I’ve since spent alot time not-listening and not-thinking to myself, just enjoying the velvety feel of this newish skin:
Though I’ve spent much of this year with my head down busy creating “08″ and all this work nobody knows about yet, I imagine the constant cycling between multiple projects that I equally love is the root of this new feeling. My daily writing/drawing regimen used to be a concentrated effort of discipline and time-management, a focus/release of fire… but it now feels more like an involuntary system of my organism, a second heartbeat that sits above my skull and throbs ideas to me in secret code through my dreams and quiet waking moments.
