Dark Introspective Thoughts

Hunter S. Thompson dead. Hard to believe he would commit suicide. But there is definitely precedent. Richard Brautigan, Sylvia Plath. Ernest Hemingway. Others. Sigh. I guess we know today "For whom the Bell Jar Tolls".

The death of Hunter S. Thompson tempered my mood. Last night I watched "The Simpsons" drop in a Thomas Pynchon reference. It was brilliant. The bag over Pynchons head. The "Gravity's Rainbow Cookbook". Very obscure stuff though. Watching the Thomas Pynchon scene was disheartening though. I was alone. The moment needed to be shared with someone, anyone, who recognized its brilliance. Laughing at an inside joke by yourself is....well the only word that comes to mind is pathetic.

Yesterday in the Jacuzzi I had a brief moment of mortality. Realizing I'm 51 and well....where am I? I never did go through a mid-life crisis per se. No conscious angst. My three year party boy stint in Las Vegas could certainly be construed as a mid-life crisis. But yesterday, I wondered if a real crisis was looming.

In response, I vowed to myself to become more focused. More tenacious. At least with respect to "micro battery business plan." I have never really stopped to think about it that much...but I'm sure that what I use to define myself is process. Dynamic process. Right now, I'm only engaged in a few minor processes. Win or lose, I want to be engaged in a major process. Something that will shake the world. I think that if I would have had children, I might not feel that way. Or at least I would have the process of raising my children to engage me. But since I don't, I need a figurative birth. Something I can give life to and will in turn give life back to me....