I had thought that I’d lost my interest for writing because life had turned fun and exciting and I have little to complain about. I had lost a potent muse: discontent. While that is indeed a factor there is another factor yet, and that’s that I’ve begun experiencing life in ways that are harder to verbalize. Only in my old introverted world was it simple enough to philosophize upon. I was blind to its complexities.

Again it’s like a dance. When you’re preoccupied with the steps you feel eloquent–steps are easy to describe, demonstrate, diagram. But the DANCE….the process…the intoxication the connection the rush the trance the serenity the exhilaration of sweeping a girl into your rhythm…how do you capture that with words? I no longer believe that’s possible. You can only approximate with grossly inadequate circumlocutions such as this.

I’ve lost faith in the power of words, because new angles that are beyond it are drawing the focus of my energies.