The Artist's Misaligned Priorities

The delirium has passed and been replaced with mismanaged idealism and a hope for a career as something I'll have to try hard at. Now that clearer and, dare I say, prettier heads prevail in the land of Ego and Id the combination of vanity and desire snuggle close once more and beg me to pursue the course ended with a red couch and addiction. Once a month these feelings surface and I never act on them. I never book a show, restring my guitar, write a new song or even consider taking a chance. This breaks my heart. Once a month my heart is broken. The mistakes recorded replay and it always strikes me that that part of me might only be on life-support but still has big lungs. Rembrandt reclining. Graham grousing. Folds folding. Jim jittering.