And then I'm in Pennsylvania...

I'm beginning to know my way around and feel like a machine might feel as a map populates in its memory as an actualized thing. I've been here now three times in about 30 months, and I will most certainly be back here in a month. 

Things have changed and they won't change back. I'm at the point in this experience where I realize that the solitude I attained during the pandemic is gone and that is no longer the normal state. 

What is that normal state? Idaho? That's where I see the potato. 

Forgive me, that's a very small bit from an improvisational thing I did back in 1999 when I was not even 25. In many ways I feel like that time is one of those fissures that you could fly a plane in if you got paid enough money to star in that movie.

I'll get back that to rhyme from earlier. I think it's important.

I'm in Pennsylvania at the moment trying to stitch together a new reality from a whole lot of scraps. I have a lot of scraps to put together into something should I have find the energy to make it happen. 

I'm here because my mother has already moved here, and my father is about to move here. This is an epic event in my life, as 43 of my 49 years have involved my parents living in Virginia. That's about to change.

This has resonance for me because much of my self-identity is about their being first generation Americans. They lived most of that time at the same address in the house I grew up in.

That's all gone now. 

This created a challenge of the self for my mother, my father, as well as me. 

And this isn't the time to right it out as my mind wants to get to relaxing for a bit.

Or maybe I shouldn't write any of this stuff publicly. I write to process how to think and I want so much for anyone in the future to know what I thought about things. 

And that includes the music I do. The following snippet is from sometime in the summer of 1998 or 1999 when I was young and I did try to spend some time creating something that deigned to be artistic.  

I kept unfurling. And it's strange to go back and realize that I have so much of me in the past that feels like I made it when I was deranged and disconnected from my professional self. Yet, the professional self would not exist if I hadn't believed in myself to think that me making music was somehow important.

Maybe it is. Maybe this is something I should do. Maybe I can finally begin to believe that's at least something something that would be worth pursuing. After all I will die one day so maybe I should step up from bread crumbs and try to learn how to weave a tapestry. 

Sean Tubbs · Star IS Boring - Sample - One