/lit/ - Literature

>>10736292
Oh, not a de Kooning fan? I bet you don't like John Coltrane either. I pity you. Change your ways and maybe you can enter the intelligentsia.

what do you do when your mind feels like a desert, devoid of ideas?
it feels like I can barely write anymore
everything in life appears at face value and my imagination has been curb stomped into dust
should I just read voraciously, hoping the draught passes eventually?
any philosophies worth exploring that would get me through this mental lethargy?

Slowly glancing to the sky, I view the crepuscule, lowering soft, filtered rays of light upon my conservatory skylight. Charley Mingus is on the box, and my beer is cold and crisp. The practical man is concerned with food for the body. I side with food for the mind.
Nowadays I shift and turn though the corridors. Taking what offers itself to my interest. The other day while leaving Subway a transient asked me for the time. I told him it was time to embrace his own ability.
While driving my car to the liquor store I purchased a pack of beer, and a pack of cider.
The only thing I will not keep from the people who stop and ask for procurance from me while I am on my way, not planning for it, not wanting it, is my wish for them to pursue food for the mind.
A young man of healthy stock and bright clear eyes held the door for me today at the Valvoline shop. I Stopped where I was and looked at his waist. No belt or loops to hold one. I asked him why he would not wear a belt. He responded "Sir, this is my uniform, It is a one piece mechanic outfit, it does not need a belt. ". A man of thought needs a belt. I saw no reason to answer him and later, stopped the staff mid oil change. They got quite upset and I slowly idled through their lowered garage door, eventually pushing it out of its tracks and destroying it.

I was at the theater tonight. As we all walked out I heard a man claim you can petition the Lord with prayer. "Petition the Lord with prayer", he said. "You can not petition the lord with prayer" I said to him. He responded by claiming our every act is a petition to earn his favor. I told this gloid to fuck off. The play was shit by the way. As I was walking to the bus stop I saw him putting his coat in the trunk of his car. Noticed a coy of Friedrich Nietzsche: "The Gay Science" lying within. Currently on the bus writing this.