10.29.2012 Turbulent cycle. Hard to concentrate. Unusual bangs on the tin roof of the studio amplify my anxiety. Survival planning mechanisms are spinning tall tales in my mind. The wind has stripped almost all the leaves off the trees. Fall colors are over, for sure.

This weather is interrupting my daily loop, dammit, calling for attention, showing me how small a world I live in. For example, I post this earlier than usual knowing the electric circuits might be the next loops to be rerouted, the lights just blipped, I stare at the sheets of rain, a flock of small birds flies out of control in a crazy circle, I sit down to draw but the wind's roar, rising like a passenger train headed this way, pulls me back to the window.

There is a heightened awareness being alone in situations like this that gives creative work a kind of urgency, a focus, a purpose. To witness the moments when the storm passes through, like those endless photos of flooded streets and surf jumping seawalls. Here are my emotions jumping the seawall of my rationalizing conscious mind.
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