I’m running on the superstition that any situation I predict will not occur. You know what I mean? Like if I imagine the next person to walk through that door will be the love of my life, then they definitely will not. So that’s a shame. But if I become aware of the possibility that my friend in Brisbane could have died in his sleep last night, then he definitely did not. So that’s nice...I don’t know what it’s about. Belief in the unexpected? A faith in some mischievous entropic order? But by the logic, If I want my preferred outcomes (and I think I usually do) then I find myself playing a strange bluffing game with myself. Pretending to be a pessimist, so that I get the joy and cancel out the pain. Trying to trick that omnipotent chance-god into believing that I don’t expect what I do want and that I do expect what I don’t want. I’m trying to manufacture the sweetness of the unenvisioned. I’m trying to protect myself from sudden winds. Trying to talk my way into a perfect party of equal parts spontaneous delight and comfortable stability. Actually it kinda reminds me of those clubs where if you want to get inside you need to look like you don’t really want to be there. It’s funny. Superstitious no doubt. Also, I don’t really believe in this thing, because (by it’s own laws) if I believed in it then it would certainly not be true....I wonder what is the root of superstition in general? Seems like a strange phenomenon. Something about relinquishing responsibility maybe. Guess that’s a question for another time. For now I’ll be here trying my best not to think about happiness, or love, or making good music. I’ll just keep listing the possible bad outcomes in my head, to prevent them from occurring. Photo by @jeanraclet