The less I appeal to the urge to appear in any way intelligible, the easier it becomes to write. I am thinking on the page now, of all the things I could or should not say. Of the topics and prompts and reasons for writing. But in actuality I am doing some real writing on the page here, and that makes all the difference.

Again, I ask myself, how is this any different than a journal. It’s public, right? So one ostensibly ought to make more sense, but other than that this is just another place to organize thoughts. And often the first step to organization is making a mess. so here’s a mess.

The urge to make sense is a caring, organic, and nonarbitrary urge. It’s just that it’s not ever meant to be a foremost concern. It’s an urge about something. It’s a peripheral, a supplementary aspiration. Something is made clear. Clarity in and of itself ought to be considered elsewhere, in the spiritual canon.

I suppose in this case I am making sense of making sense, which is not quite as metatextual as it sounds. It’s different than clarity of clarity. Rather it’s clarity of clarity-ness, clearness. Don’t overthink it. got it?

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