Would That I Might

I am quite glad to have been able to get myself to do my work early tonight, as I am still feeling rather tired.  It's been a long day, though I spent most of it around the house, to be honest.  This is probably the first quiet day that I've had this week, so perhaps it is understandable that I am still feeling some level of exhaustion at the moment.

I do not have good answers for your questions They are not things I ever considered before we met, though I should have. I realize it was never much different than this but it was how things had always been. Now, I have  your perspective, too.

So, I woke up early this morning under the belief that I had an appointment at half-past eight, but I was wrong.  It was not until one in the afternoon.  I actually have the eight-thirty appointment tomorrow morning, which is not a problem, really, but I am quite tired at this point, as I did get out of bed a bit after six today.  Seeing as I intend to do the same tomorrow, I am planning to get to bed quite soon.

I like it, though it is strange I should not have used, "though," because I do not mean strange in any way that contradicts my liking it, because it being strange is not a bad thing or a good one, either, is not meant to determine the value, but is a value it presents, a quaIity, right, and that is not me saying anything about what is good or bad but just that it is not the expected  or typical or ordinary or other things that mean the same general thing. I like it being strange, I think, or I like it and it is strange, which may be a bit different, but if I can't tell which is right I don't know that it matters much.

I am feeling quite tired at the moment, and it has been a somewhat long and busy day.  I am glad to be wrapping up with my writing for tonight so that I can try and get myself to sleep a bit early, especially as I am supposed to be at the gym at 8:30 for a training session.

I made him mad and it is not wrong for him to feel that, to think what he thinks, to be offended by what happened or did not happen or what that means, what I communicated by my failure.  I do not have a good excuse and am not offering any. It was not intended, but that means little, I suppose.  I hope he can understand and forgive.

Melissa was still not feeling so great when she got up this morning but I think she is doing better tonight.  I am hoping she will be back to normal tomorrow.  Really, it isn't all that clear just what was wrong, as she didn't have a fever.  Fortunately, she seems to be getting better.  I suspect it may have been largely stress related, as we have been dealing with a number of complicated matters recently.

I hear it all but I am not paying attention to anything but the noise as a noise, am not understanding or interpreting or considering it as anything  that might have a meaning or matter. It is just a noise. I can ignore a noise.

Melissa has been feeling ill since Friday night.  We went out to dinner with my mother and after, Melissa began having an upset stomach.  She spent all day in bed yesterday and most of today, as well, but she says she is starting to feel better and thinks she will be alright tomorrow.  

No concern or care was shown and that is how they think it should be, is right and proper and fine and not a thing anyone would question, because if they did, the only response would be confusion or concern for the one asking, as if such a thought were the true sign of the addled, and the best synonym for wisdom was obliviousness.

In discussing the difficulties I have been encountering getting myself to return to writing more fiction, I also need to acknowledge the role of routine.  I began a daily writing practice around eight or nine years ago, and it always focused on writing poetry.  While I have written fiction as a part of this practice, at times, it has rarely been something that I did with the same regularity as I have with poetry.  Certainly, my confidence as a poet connects to this, though that connection runs in both directions: I believed in my competence to write poetry when I began this practice, and that certainly made it far easier to begin, and writing poetry each day has helped me to develop as a poet, and has provided me a greater feeling of mastery over my practical ability to produce poetry, putting aside the specific merits of any particular poem.  By contrast, I am not as certain in my fiction writing, and that has made it far more challenging to create a truly sustainab...

I did not think of all of that They are good questions, are the right things to be considering and I wonder why I wouldn't think of it myself, but I know you are often the wiser one, and I trust or just want or act, like stepping on ice before checking it is too thin.

I have fallen out of the habit of writing fiction with any regularity and I know that I want to change that.  If I didn't have a desire to write stories, it would be fine, but I often think of stories I would like to write, it is simply that I don't do it, and I think part of that, at least, is that I don't trust myself to do it.  I feel competent with my poetry, but I know that I don't have the same degree of experience about fiction, and I am aware that much of what I want to write is complicated and a bit strange.  In some ways, my lack of more formal training might be a boon, to be honest, as I tend to want to write more experimental and nonconventional pieces, but the fact that I am not so confident in my ability to craft compelling stories does make sitting down to write fiction far more difficult for me than writing poetry.

I should not but then I do and I regret it, and then I think I won't forget how it feels when I falter, but later I seem to find out once more: desire is not always so easy to dissuade.

It was another busy day, today, and, beyond just being a bit tired, I am also feeling somewhat sore right now.  In large part it is my arm, which has been aching on and off for a little while.  I don't know if is from strain or just having banged it or something else, but it has been improving and I expect it will go away soon enough.  In any event, I am hoping that I might be able to get to bed on the early side tonight.

You speak of it being fair and seem to think it has been and is and only needs to remain that way, and I wonder how you can think it is not a lie. You have observed and been part of too much for that, have been here to observe it all, alas, it seems you have noticed  only what you were told was there.

It has been a long and somewhat overwhelming day.  I was kind of prepared that it might be, but expecting it doesn't mean it wasn't still a lot to deal with.  At the moment, I am still kind of recovering and trying not to think about things too much, at least for a bit.

I had too much and less is better for tonight, anyhow. I couldn't handle more, could not make use of it. Another time, but not now, not tonight, what with the world and the moon and my heart.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.  Melissa and I both have appointments in the morning, and then we both have appointments in the afternoon, including a meeting we are supposed to attend together to do with the work on our house (a meeting I will admit stresses me out a bit at the moment).  It is going to be a bit hectic, so it is probably for the best that I am getting my work done early and can rest up the rest of the evening.

I do not know or maybe I do know and I cannot remember or I did know, is maybe more accurate, but I do not know if I did or not, and I can't say that if I knew I knew everything or just some of it or all of it or if what I knew was even the truth or just lies or half-lies or, maybe, enough that was true to be misleading. Or, maybe that is just what I am telling myself. It is all quite confusing, really, and I am not sure I even want to get it clear.

It is only a few weeks before pre-orders begin for my chapbook, and I am quite excited about it.  While it is only a chapbook, I believe I can use it as an opportunity for developing my audience and creating a bigger platform.  I feel as if there are already positive signs about what is to come, and I am focusing on those and keeping myself optimistic about it all.

It was me who made the error, but I won't tell you that, won't make it known. I am embarrassed, am ashamed of it and of my annoyance at the repercussions when I assumed it was someone else.

One of the difficulties of keeping this blog is knowing what I want to write each night. Just a few minutes ago I didn't even really have a good idea of just what I would write, so I am writing this, about that difficulty itself.  Most nights I do come up with something, one way or another, so I can't say just what it is that is happening quite yet.

I almost forgot or I did forget, for a bit, anyway, but then I remembered when it mattered, which is why I say that I almost forgot, because I did remember, because I remembered  just in time, when it mattered. I might not have, but I did. I know it was close. I can't even say  how it is I wound up remembering at the right moment.

I believe that one area where I find that I can have difficulty with fiction is my tendency to be so oriented on language first that I can easily slip towards indulging that urge in ways that don't necessarily work to forward a story.  This is likely just a case of my just being slightly askew in some sense, or just not having a particular approach that would let me harness this tendency in a more fruitful way.  I often feel that I am quite close to being able to really write the fiction I have in mind, and I am sure the real answer will be just to write it, of course, but, of course, that is mainly because it gives me the real opportunity to learn just what it is I am trying to figure out in the first place.

I recognize what has happened and what I  have done and have not done and why it is my actions that are what matters, even if  there is more and it is not  only me, even then, because you are the one I owe it to, the one who deserves to be considered and the rest:  I do not know what to say about that. Maybe I should. If I were better at any of it, maybe I could manage all that, too.

I am feeling a bit sore at the moment.  I've been working out a bit more than I had been in the past, and maybe that is some of it, though I am careful and have a trainer who knows what he is doing.  For the most part, I think it is just normal stuff, to be honest, though I do have a bit of soreness in my one arm that feels a little more vigorous, shall we say, than would be expected.  I am going to the doctor on Monday for a regular visit, so if it is still bothering me at that point, I can bring it up.

Resolutions Even if I know that things are wrong and what things and that I am responsible, and even wanting to make the changes, wanting to solve and resolve and move towards better times and better ways, even all that does not seem to make it any simpler.

I feel kind of bad that I didn't get my work done last night, but I know it happens.  Ironically, it wasn't because Melissa and I were out celebrating or anything.  We spent the night at home together. I made a nice meal for us, but I think we were both just exhausted after a long day.  I do feel a bit old confessing that I think we both fell asleep before midnight.

You won't understand that there are problems and they are real and have impact on my life, and some are practical problems and some are about what is meant or communicated, and some are not that, either, but they are  problems, all of them, and I know it won't matter that they are real to me, it won't matter because it is not about your concerns or how it impacts them.