A man hesitates. He second-guesses himself too much. But perhaps that’s just part of his creative process—and maybe he should embrace it.
That, in itself, is as good a demonstration as any of his curious predicament.
He even begins to doubt his own doubts.
Today, the man is wearing his grandfather’s old wool cardigan, inherited after his passing in the autumn of ’21, aged 91. The cardigan is covered in triangle shapes—brown, yellow, orange, black. Oddly enough, it suits him. Especially considering his artist alter-ego collective is called vicevoids (the V, essentially, is just a triangle missing its top or bottom). These triangle/V shapes seem to keep appearing in his life, showing up in the oddest places. Surely, it must be a sign—confirmation from the gods of the direction he’s meant to go in.
He’s paired the cardigan with silver-grey Nike sweatpants (going on eight years now), a brown long-sleeve tee gifted by a friend, black boxers, and a pair of white cotton socks purchased six months ago. As good an outfit as any for lollygaggin’ at home or wandering the neighborhood. Warm, comfortable, and under the radar.
The day has been kind to him. Music, solitude, merriment. But when the music stops—when he’s not playing instruments, writing, or distracting himself with other shenanigans—the demon ghosts start pulling at him again from invisible swamps.
Still, he knows: it’s all just perspective. Just the mind, involuntarily dancing through space with the exuberance of a hippo splashing around in a puddle. For no other reason than a good ol’ splasheroo in the sun.
Soon, he’ll go for a walk and feel the soft drizzling rain on his head. Sometimes he thinks about getting a girlfriend. Then he considers a dog instead. Maybe a dog would be easier. And cheaper! But then again, girlfriends might be more suited to city life. Dogs seem more like country folk at heart.
The evening is upon him. It is also his 42nd birthday today—an occasion as good as any to get back in the game and draw open the palace curtains. Even if nobody is yet watching. Build it and they will come.
Soon, the world will once again echo with the songs of the
Viking Blues King from the Northern Lands.
He has spoken.
(An introduction of sorts. More musings coming soon…)
