Mental Combustion

 I actually like this version of the second part, Barcarolla, best..SO FAR. I spent 2 hours last night from 3am to 5am trying to find a version I liked (and now, at 4:30a.m., I'm writing about how I did god knows what the other day).  What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to be practicing for an upcoming concert, and I spend hours thinking about random things, possibly superficially too: hope being the driving force for rage, the fact that we may be on a quest to suffer in ways that are familiar (de Botton), bits from the Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha (a man never marries in search of the perfect woman; he has met her actually, but she was searching for the perfect man.)  I want to write to various people, so I craft letters but then never send them because I feel like I'm just inserting myself into people's lives--inserting this mental combustion into everything.  I'm going to wake up when the sun sets, never get proper vitamin D and get rickets, turn into Gollum and then, ONLY then, realize I need to drink some water, and get some, well, you know, sun.