Feeling a little let down, I decided to write a my final paper on what seemed the most promising-Zen Buddhism. I was interested in how Zen monks influenced Western authors like Hesse and Kerouac and wondered if their conception was a diluted "westernized" version of the real stuff amongst misty mountains. I was also curious whether any of the subsequent Zen pop explosion in the West had filtered back and influenced the general understanding.
I enjoyed the research in the library and continued to read until the papers were just about due. Once I became aware of how poorly I had planned my time (I should have had at least a rough draft after the midpoint) I decided that there was no point in even trying to write it. I would just fail.
The day it was due, I actually handed him an eight page paper titled "The Influence of Zen Buddhist Thought in America." The last seven pages were blank. For now at least that is the story of my life.
I am humbled, restless, and pretty good company
UPDATE: Maybe not music. I surprise myself how long I can sit in silence, but I absolutely love making new sounds fit together and hearing the others do the same.
Also, I just now noticed that my brief description was "I am a drug-addicted, hopeless fool and I welcome you." Hmm. Forgot I had left that cynical anti-pickup line (maybe a putdown?) Three points: 1. I don't consider myself a drug addict but I can say drugs and alcohol have fucked things up for me in the past. 2. I'm not a hopeless fool. You learn a lot exploring extreme ups and downs of the human condition, and from what I can tell, things aren't hopeless. A fool, maybe. But who's to judge? 3. I do welcome you. Especially if you have found yourself similarly frustrated by the casual cruelty and apparent indifference of the world around us. Double especially if despite this existential maw looming over our heads, you are awed by the peculiar and beautiful way everything from fireflies to distant stars fit together. How clouds flow like rivers and bugs walk on water. If your reaction to Nothingness is to subsume and create, then I welcome the opportunity to apply that salve of compassionate novelty to the wounds of the world.
There are only a few things that keep me from thinking too much. Music is one of them :)