Where the Wind Blows

It's been over a year since I had a "real" job and while I'm not complaining, I'm sort of wondering where the winds of change will blow this gypsy seed next. I have spent most my waking hours in the pursuit of writing (which I love) but somehow with all that time and thought spent alone, I'm wondering if it is too much of a good thing. In manic periods usually brought on by the imbibe, I am compelled to write poetry. My deepest thoughts and fears come to surface begging for an audience of one... me. I place them in a blog aptly titled the Somnambulant Solipsist which, broken down means a sleepwalker/insomniac who has extreme preoccupation with indulgence of one's own feelings... in other words a self-absorbed egoist. It's a form of therapy and I'm happy to report that not many people view it, as it's dark and personal, even though I try to keep my person out of it and focus on universal problems. I attempt to read other people's poetry to gain a perspective on the form and beauty of words... but I get stuck, as a solipsist can only see everyone else's words through their own eyes. Sometime it feels as if every poet I read is pointing a finger at me personally and saying, "get with the program" though I haven't a clue what the program is. I'm hoping to find another outlet to fill my time... maybe a helping role of some kind... and so this week I'll walk around town with my resume in hand and see if I can join the ranks of the unemployed and find something to do. It will probably end my short lived poetic career, but I think it's time.