time travel

The inside of my head is usually pretty cramped: ideas for new digital art designs competing with the perpetual soundtrack and always, always random thoughts of the people in my life.

But right now, it’s crickets in there.

The last time I went for groceries, I wandered the aisles with no idea of what to purchase for 20 minutes or so before settling on a plan for our self-quarantine. (In case you are curious, the plan was “buy all the treats so we will be less unhappy.”)

I know this feeling because I have lived it before. My ambient stress level is up so high that my brain doesn’t have the juice to make art in any medium.

No calligraphy. Can’t think my way through a simple drawing. And writing? Nope.

So, folks out there, I’m fine, except that I’ve traveled back in time to when I was miserable.

Anyone else feeling this way?

– Abe

2 comments

  1. How did I miss this lovely message? Thank you for taking time to comment – and commiserate. I’m finally feeling things moving around in my attic: I’ve been very attracted to color the last few days and have been reading more substance. Hope you have turned a corner as well!

    Like

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