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A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Seventy-Four

I am feeling pretty wiped right now, so I am just going to keep this short, I think.  I told myself that it was better if I allowed myself to just check in on occasion, that it would keep me from just skipping out on writing my blog altogether, so I suppose this is a positive step for me right now, even if it feels a bit like I am cheating or something.

Poem: I come here empty

I come here empty There is nothing that waits, that was  waiting. I did not prepare. There is only the space, is only  the empty space itself. It is enough, if I wait, if I pay attention.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

I am here a bit early tonight.  I was able to convince myself to get to work straight after dinner, which is kind of the ideal, I think.  It isn't always feasible, but getting work done earlier in the evening is better, especially since I go to the gym pretty early on most mornings.  Anyhow, I am glad that I was able to fight my usually habit of procrastinating and just get it done tonight.  I hope that I can repeat this tomorrow and start building it as a habit.

Poem: You will think it is about that

You will think it is about that I don't mind your interpretation, but it is your own, is nothing to do with me, or not much, anyhow, it is not my intention, is what I mean, It is something else, but that is fine. It is fine with me whatever you want to think. I am prepared for you not understanding. It is nothing new or even notable.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Seventy-Two

One of the hardest parts of keeping this blog with consistency (and this was true even when I was more diligent in that capacity), is just having an idea of what to write each night.  That's one reason I always gave myself permission to just check in with a sentence or two stating that I was done with my work and was finishing up by announcing it on this blog.  I suppose I am just not comfortable doing that right now.  I am still attempting to show myself that I can get back to my former habits, and in some way writing a blog entry that isn't just perfunctory feels more meaningful.  Ironically, of course, it is more realistic to just admit that I need to be able to accept different levels of result and that some days just reporting in needs to be enough.

Poem: I have done none of that

I have done none of that Really, I did forget, though I remembered since then, and still, I am not doing it, am waiting. I have no answers  about why or what is wrong. Something is wrong, but what? I do not have a good answer. I have no answer. I do not want to give any kind of answer. I should just do it instead of wondering why I am not, but that is not enough, not this time.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Seventy-One

My best friend just got back into town.  He's only going to be around for a little while, at the moment, and I hadn't been certain when he would get back, but last night he called me to say that he was around and had some time if I wanted to meet up.  Fortunately, I didn't have a lot going on at that moment, so he came over and we wound up hanging out and going out for dinner.  It was good catching up with him.  He's been up north for several months, and is heading back before the end of the month, unfortunately, so I am glad to have had a chance to at least get together for a bit.  I'm hopeful that I'll see him at least once more before he heads off again.