It’s only taken me, like 6 years, to figure out how to successfully blog about the several parts of me, and my business.
This is my first attempt to share that part of me that is a Journal Writer. I have been keeping a Journal since 1984. And, have amassed thousands of pages of stuff: lots of whining, whimpering, deeply black thoughts, manic riffs, and occasional fucking brilliance — well, at least in my opinion.
So, from time to time I will share some of these private thoughts, to give you a bit of a window into the workings of the mind of a writer. LOOK FOR the words “A Writer’s Journal” in the post title.
WARNING: It may not be pretty. It could be deeply disturbing. It may be exceedling raw. And, it will contain lots of ‘swears’, from time to time. But, it will always be “the real thing, unedited, unexpurgated”
Here’s today’s entry:
MorningPages: February, 3, 2010
The ice fog is slowly thinning, the ldldlldldldlldldldldlldldl
FUCK!
Why are the words not flowing?
It’s not the pain … or the fog in my brain … or the distractions. Why does my writing flow and ebb? Mostly ebb these days.
I am aware of all the sensations in my body. The pressure of my feet on the window sill. The weight of the laptop in my … well, lap. The knives of pain in my hips. The ache in my balls.
Oh … goody … more distractions! The garbage truck just pulled up below; now I can watch them empty the blue bins.I feel sleepy.
My neck snaps to the side once again. I bet if peoples were watching me they’d figure I had Tourettes’.
Why the fuck did I come here anyway. Oh yeah: to write something. But, something meaningful, something meaty, something useful, not this useless shit, crap, whiny, sniveling, mewling.
Enough of this shit.
Time for a soak in the Jacuzzi, or maybe a nap.
Copyright 2010 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved
