I tried to exist without being Rain Robert. It doesn’t work. Something’s missing. I’m missing.
I need this space like I need water.
Documenting pain, documenting pleasure.
Words. Images. Mirages.
Recording. Revealing. Releasing.
The opposite of deny and hide and suppress.
Like throwing rocks in the ocean.
I’m throwing rocks at my screen.
Imagining the cracked lace.
Imagining the leaking.
Like picking flowers in summer.
I’m picking flowers with my camera.
Imagining the scent trails.
Imagining the scintillation.
It’s been so long, I haven’t known how to come back. Oscillating like a fan between feeling free and feeling bad for having disappeared.
I couldn’t bring anyone with me to where I’ve been going. It’s a lonely road for the dark night of the soul club band.
Is there a place for me as I am in the world as it is?
This is my task, this is what I need to resolve.
That’s why I am choosing to post again.
Because this is a place where I do exist, where I do belong.
It’s a way to create a bit of ground under my feet, even if just enough to stand.
From there maybe I will see further, see somewhere I can walk to.
Going through the hundreds of notes I’ve left behind this year has been feeling like a reversed Hansel and Gretel. I’ve already been cooked and killed and saved – I might as well be every character. Now I’m retracing my steps through the forest, collecting the pebbles I sowed to find my way back. Or was it to show me the way there? Can you tell the end from the beginning? Morning having the night for breakfast. Night having the morning as night cap.
The process of sifting through my words is intense. I can hear my brain struggle, my soul sob. It hurts in both past and present tense. All my subjects whining and intertwining, the same preoccupations hopping around like a stream of (not so) conscientious crickets.
So many thoughts and feelings. Staked into the ground they could be made into a shelter. Just put a tarp on top. Now I can let it rain.