every once in a while in my reading i come across a character in a novel that i admire and wish to emulate. right now that character is haruki murakami’s cinnamon in ‘the wind-up bird chronicle.’
he reminds me of the way i used to be – effortlessly talented and proficient at everything i attempted.
like him, i taught myself instruments to a fairly high level of skill and learned languages on mere whims. now i can’t even get myself to learn french out of necessity.
i feel like i’m getting dumber as i grow older, but maybe everyone feels that way.
whenever i drink with friends, i spend a little bit of time imagining the brain cells i must be killing with the alcohol. but i get over it soon enough, remembering that deterioration is just another natural process in the cycle of life.
but anyway, cinammon is always immaculately dressed and can communicate perfectly even though he’s unable to speak. he possesses a sort of quiet elegance that i envy.
but alas, i’m loud and outspoken and would probably be miserable speaking as little as he does.
still, maybe i can capture a bit of that silent grace.
i’m going to buy a set of charcoal and a new journal tomorrow.
i’m going back to my roots.