Erik (eriktrips) wrote,

there is only one way to kill time

I thought I might write down what I had hoped to do and what I did do last night but that seems unnecessarily self-punitive. I do want to register, though, that there were productive, non-drudgy things I wanted to do--like work on a song, all casual like, using the music composing software I downloaded sometime ago--that I didn't get to because of extreme anxiety over those things I felt I needed to do but could not persuade myself to do. In this case the latter consisted only of reading some particular email. That will have to wait another 12-18 hours. I don't understand this idea that tomorrow never comes; in fact it comes again and again and again and so relentlessly that procrastination only multiplies the pain of those things that one puts off because they are painful.

Not that this compels me not to procrastinate, because the pain of doing is often simply unbearable until I have no choice: at which time tomorrow has arrived, as always promised/threatened, and it becomes clear that nothing in life can be avoided or made less acute but time can be borrowed by the moment. The trick, I think, is to learn how to use borrowed time instead of continuing to agonize about the tomorrow that is coming no matter what you do. After all, we don't--most of us--live paralyzed by the knowledge that the day or night of our death is unavoidable and yet it is very much so and what we have until then is all borrowed time. This is what I have to figure out how to do: if it feels like death and needs to be put off, like death, until it can no longer be put off, then the intervening period has to be freed up somehow from the dread of that final moment no matter how inevitable it may be. Otherwise one simply dies a prolonged and harrowing death which is like borrowing a fatal illness instead of time. Even if time is a fatal illness, it need not be one that one suffers from. Time runs out soon enough. Why anticipate this by giving up what there is of time.

Of course I am aware of my mother's voice which for some reason seemed to count procrastination as one of the seven deadly sins. Why I have no idea. What is the shame in waiting? I cannot say but it burns a hole in my pocket even so.

I did also write half a letter to my aunt. Tonight, whatever else I do, I'm going to work on a song.
Tags: death, time, tomorrow, waiting

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