coping, life, writer's block, writing

you gotta fight for the write

March 24, 2020, 1 am

Tonight I felt like I just had to write.

I don’t write everyday, just when I have something to say. Maybe that’s not best, but it’s me. For a while now, a week, maybe two, since all the virus quarantine social distancing non-stop 24/7, I didn’t want to write. I get like that when life’s too much. I feel a little shaky, my stomach jittery, my brain lazy. Maybe I should fight the malaise and the brain freeze, but I almost never ever do.

Eventually and inevitably, it happens. In a snap. In the time it takes for the brain to wake up. The writing bug kicks in, and I know I have to write.

For me it usually happens with a song, a great song, great words, one of the great song writers. And I always, always, think the same thing — I wish I could write one great song. Well, I can tell you that will never ever happen. The next thought is pretty much always the same — I need to write. Just like that. Not I want to write. I need to write.


About what?
About what?


Tomorrow I’ll find something to write.

curtains, emotions, life


The dry pasty smell of dust and paint…tell-tale leftovers from the morning’s work.

Sheer curtains barely move at the open window, not enough to call it a flutter. Shadows on the shade. Squares and rectangles, double rows of lines. Plaid patterns of sunlight shining through the panes.

The wind works a little sound out of the chimes outside. I hear children down the street. A distant car engine, and the tick, tick, ticking, or is it a nod, nod, nodding, of a small animal. Maybe one of the smaller woodpeckers working on a tree trunk.

Emotions that feel flat. So flat they feel oppressive. So flat they feel unworthy of a sunny almost-spring afternoon.