Just Write, Re-entry
Whatcha dimbat hougminoimgmmm.
(Clears throat, stretches fingers, preparing to try again.)
So here I sit, diet coke to my left, the wrapper from my Sausage McMuffin with Egg and Cheese to my right. Blinking computer screen to my front. Since I’ve already written about 100 letters, I stretch. Roll my neck. Crack my knuckles.
The cursor blinks. Bblinksblinksblinks. Blinkity Blink. I actually think it’s taunting me. Damn cursor! Nanny nanny boo boo What you write is doo doo. You know what? You’re an ass, cursor.
Can you believe the audacity of this thing? Just blinking and waiting and daring me to write. Really. And then this blank page is just standing by, watching the cursor push me about and does nothing. Nothing!!
Wait!! I know. I’ll go back to my notebook of awesome ideas. Hang on. I’ll be right back.
Ok, I’m back. Hmmmm. Somehow those notebook ideas are less shiny now. Well, any way, how about this one?
My life sits amidst these mundane, rote tasks. The dishwasher. The laundry. My minutes are spent in the folds of each slightly faded tshirt, the pairing of each sock to its mate. Each gesture connecting me to them, threads of everyday woven into their clothes and our lives.
Bricks land on ancient face
Silouhetted in pale eastern light
Small belying strength: stoisism
at the mountain’s foot/
Feet on the ground
Ground meet the feet
Coffee brews cream swirls
TV voices low and murmur
Unrest Murder Genocide Elections
while I split open the english muffin
and push the the toast button
Ambling down my vanilla path
Do I contribute to this larger unrest
by muting those talking heads do I abstain
put my energy elsewhere, into this life,
with the butter
and the dishes in the sink
and the raising of one girl and one boy?
The cursor still blinks. And I just stretched again because really, this has been quite arduous. But I did it. I showed up.
Take that, cursor.
Note: No, I’m not high. I’m just practicing this fine art of Writing Again and I’ve been wanting to write a super poignant, Really Great Blog Post and it’s just not coming so instead of not writing anything, again, I’m writing something. I’m practicing. Kinda like instead of a throwing a full blown dinner party, just having people over for an after dinner drink in sweat pants, and just wiping down the bathroom counter and maybe lighting a candle instead of going bonkers and preparing like crazy.