i'm moving slowly today. it's 80 outside, but i can feel the coolness of things, radiating like heat from flat surfaces. it's comforting, like when you find a cool spot on the pillow on a hot night, a temporary balm.
i've had 3 hours of sleep and i feel nauseous, on the verge of throwing up. that's why i'm moving slowly. sudden movements cause a spike in the vertigo, make my head spin.
i worry about my writing. i have no shortage of ideas, it's just that the words aren't coming. it's tempting to anthropomorphize them, give them little souls and motivations. coy little fuckers. get back in my head and give me part of my sense of self-worth back. i've been a writer for so long. the thought of losing the words makes me feel a little crazy. is that what addiction feels like? can you be enchanted by your own creativity? have i been taking myself for granted?
maybe i'll set word traps. scatter dictionaries and thesaurii around the house, prop them open a little bit. leave bottles of whisky, gin and wine open. play blues and jazz and classical and hell, maybe even zydeco. that shit has got to be good for something.
snap! i think i got one! ah. it's "gazebo". no good, throw it back. hopefully something more useful comes along. it's only a matter of time.
right?
i've had 3 hours of sleep and i feel nauseous, on the verge of throwing up. that's why i'm moving slowly. sudden movements cause a spike in the vertigo, make my head spin.
i worry about my writing. i have no shortage of ideas, it's just that the words aren't coming. it's tempting to anthropomorphize them, give them little souls and motivations. coy little fuckers. get back in my head and give me part of my sense of self-worth back. i've been a writer for so long. the thought of losing the words makes me feel a little crazy. is that what addiction feels like? can you be enchanted by your own creativity? have i been taking myself for granted?
maybe i'll set word traps. scatter dictionaries and thesaurii around the house, prop them open a little bit. leave bottles of whisky, gin and wine open. play blues and jazz and classical and hell, maybe even zydeco. that shit has got to be good for something.
snap! i think i got one! ah. it's "gazebo". no good, throw it back. hopefully something more useful comes along. it's only a matter of time.
right?
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I am living, working, training, teaching and studying at a sort of commune/faux monastary. I don't know how else to describe it. The man who invited me here, Yusef, calls it a Kedai. Which depending on who you ask is a word of malaysian/japanese origin meaning anything from temple to shop or village. But that really isn't accurate either. The people in the nearest village seem to think we are some kind of cult and/or paramilitary/revolutionary group. But mostly they think we are crazy and wealthy westerners.
Glad to hear you and your girl are doing well too.