Breezy Day on the Ledge…I’m standing close to the edge and
I’m remembering a day in May about two years ago…
I remember thinking,
What is up with me and writing? You’d think I enjoyed it as much I brood on it… as much as it envelops me in its allure …but still I procrastinate and moan about it…Yes, something is definitely amiss here…I wish to figure out my true passion…does it even lie in writing as I claim that it does? What do I really have to say? I kinda feel like a part of my reluctance is due to the fact that I think nobody really gives a sh*t anymore what anybody else has to say, and everything has already been said, twice, so why f*ckin’ bother sayin’ anything at all? Why should my voice count among the tens of thousands ??? Why in the world would anything I have to say, ever matter to anyone at all!? I used to repeat that old sayin’ “You never know who you might inspire or whose life your words might change”…but I kinda don’t believe in that anymore…if I ever did…I find it difficult to muster up the wherewithal to say a f*ckin word most of the time….it’s all just so shitty and depressing….really, it is…But who am I trying to convince other than myself? Could it be the herb? That sweet, sweet giver of hedonistic nectar…Nah, prolly not ….but maybe it’s a contributor to my stagnation to some degree…but hell, I still don’t have the urge to write even when I’m not herbified…but whatever…somethings gonna jump off regardless whether I do or don’t… eventually, enertia will cease…I have no frikkin idea when, how, or in what manner that will transpire so, in the interim…
I’M GONNA NEED ME
TO HELP ME…
BECAUSE …IT IS.
I Do Realize That I’m Hoarding What Little Writing I Have Done…It’s Pitiful Really Because More Than Half Of It Isn’t Even Complete!! SO STUPID…Maybe If I Just Wrote For Myself…
Well, how about if I…
Just wrote to get some stuff completed, or for no other reason than to clear up some of this stagnation….Stop foolin myself by writing other people’s sh*t that I have to damn near torture myself to finish in time…wit’ my “last damn minute ass”…ha, the nerve…shameful….
A digression: (Soaked n steeped n Wine n Weed…Is it any worse than a sugar fiend who doesn’t drink water?….I think both are detrimental to some extent, but more so the sugar fiend…because sugar rots which makes me think of decay which then makes me start thinking I smell pus n’ worminess in the air…not a good indicator of longevity, relationship wise…)
Is there any way for me to reconcile my varying styles of writing? All those different voices in my head that have something to say…All of them bearing unique inflections and attitudes…They’re talkin’ to me but expect me to share their words.
The Old Guy in my head:
“How bout u juss stop the gawd damn whining! Huh?!! How bout that gurly???? How bout u just have a Fee Fy Flukkin’ blast with it and say whatever the flick flock ya wanna say, but juss say it with flair!! And don’t use so many frik frakkin expletives!….Hmmmph!”
…Grasping at the Glimmer…sometimes it’s enuff.
…but most of the time it aint.
The Quill Queen