I, like the dog last night during our evening walk while we tested out
our hurricane kit LED flashlights, find myself in the mystery spot.
The video game design class I've been teaching to a sqad of high school boys all week is frankly draining but I see little glimmers in the little monsters. I'm being hard on them but ultimately, i'm thrilled they are giving an often Sisyphean ordeal like programming a shot. We all went out for pizza at lunch.
Following that was the first installment of the writing workshop which serves the instructor's ego by making him feel like he might have some wisdom to impart. They have to pitch stories to me next week and I
predict the gamut from sweet platitudinal thinking to the momentary precision focus of the Truly Mad. Again, glimmers.
The mystery spot is where I am safe in my happy home with the people I love dozing away in the dark as poor, sad OCD sufferers are being silently exploited - one lady is attempting to overcome to face her fear of running over children in parking lots by being made to plow her car into strollers pushed into her lane by her therapist - on the muted TV, in sharp contrast to a day of talking, talking, talking. I'm on the membrane splitting hyperfocus from the Void, if that's not too melodramtic a description.
I listened to no music today.
Alex V. Cook - Author, Journalist, Critic, Teacher
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