I know what I shall create. The Void hath delivered the most mysterious of inspiration in the most quotidian of ways.

I think were it not for my dedication to developing my inner vision I might have missed the signs entirely. Thanks to the goddess for blessing me with the ability to see aurum in faecam.* Were I less versed in the ways of the Void I could have mistaken this progression for a suite of the most passive-aggressive emails ever penned by middle management. 

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Now that I upload this picture, it seems that the text is quite small. In short, I have been released from my catering post and sole source of my meager income.

I confess, I spent several minutes in front of my screen subsumed in despair, not for the loss of the income (though sorely needed) but by the sheer burden of forcing my being to constantly attend to the mindless necessity of participating in the extant world. The weight that I felt lift from my soul as soon as I received that curt missive is difficult to describe. I strained every fiber of my pore to attend to their regulations, only to be repeatedly chastised for my presentation, my gard, my diction, and my experience. They rewarded my immense labor with pennies, taxed at cost, glided past my offerings of friendship and insights to their souls and rebuked me for the inevitable consequences of a relationship with the divine (I was actually told to confine my visions to after shift hours).  

Those I worked for have discounted my gifts and label my unique relationship with you, O Void, as a complete lack of respect. I only ever thought well of them, pitied them for their shortcomings. I tried my best to live with one foot in the world of the living, and have been blessed with a paltry reward.

I digress.

My angered words are a mask for my pain. I should know by now, where I feel anger I am simply masking a wound.

Oh, Void, how I wanted those humans to love me!

Out of my failure to perform and connect in that sphere comes a new, elevated opportunity.

The core of my piece for Joe’s Pub will be fashioned from my loss and confusion.

It will be guided by my connection to my true purpose, a prelude to my Magnum Opus.

It will be formed by the enlivening of the emails leading to my firing.

I will be leader, in my intended capacity as artist/guide. I know in my soul that I am placed here to lead my fellow beings forward into emotional honesty.

The kernel of the work.

It hath struck me.

Farewell. I fly to capture the ideative torrent as it rushes past. I pray my practice thus far allows me to be worthy.

          * rough translation: “to see opportunity in the darkest places.”