That's how many times I've restarted this entry. I don't know what I was getting at exactly, but I've stumbled upon something this week and I'm trying to articulate it in a way that doesn't sound deranged.
It may have started with Dada. Actually, if you backtrack a bit, it might have started with Charles and Ray Eames, wandered over to Dada and a lot of reading about conceptual art, and then twirled back to the Eameses in the form of The Films of Charles and Ray Eames Vol. 2. Other contributions include the purchase of my very first glue gun, an epic epiphany regarding proper running form that has changed everything, and a 40% off sale at Dick Blick, which resulted in my carting home a rather impressive set of watercolor paints IN TUBES for a truly delightful price.
The point isn't where it started, but what happened. I suddenly have an intense sense of motivation. No, not even motivation. Motivation would imply intent and desire, but not necessarily motion.
The word I really want is momentum.
All of the sparks are sparking again, and there is nothing I love more in the universe than that sensation.