Physically

Perfection. My thoughts turn to failure. Every pursuit of perfection leads to it. The only conclusion: failure is perfection. Perfection is entropy. Heat death. Collapse, attenuation. if from this you surmise that my presentation tomorrow will be a wanky conceptual art piece, you surmise correctly.

Philosophically

Perfection. Dualistic perfection is unprovable, requires faith. It’s pie in the sky, the sweet hereafter.

Pragmatically

In a less rigorous analysis, perfection is a process. Refinement of a black box process with unstable input and irregular output.

Personally

The internal critic says I can’t write well so I give up and procrastinate. It’s a daily struggle to let go, to gently turn myself away from evaluation. Letting go of the idea of perfection so I can walk the process. Two years ago, I had this to say on perfection:

>For the longest time, I thought of myself as a diamond press.

>That, through thoughtfiling, secretion, stoicism, and privation, I was incubating a masterpiece. Crystallizing.

>Somehow making art without making it. Hence the title of this blog.

>But that hypothesis was born of fear.

>Now I practice.