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Trying to get a handle on my TWO stories. I cycled downtown earlier today into the wind and away from here as I needed to distance myself from this place for a bit. I’d be lying if I said that I was happy residing here, but I really do not have any other options at the moment. Still working on that. I think that I need to write in here more, strategize more, and believe that alternate realities are possible. And then perhaps if I start to visualize those alternate realities, something will begin to manifest. Like that time back in January 2015 where I stood on my balcony on NYE and declared to the night that somehow I would make it to New York that year cause I had this, at the time, seemingly bonkers notion that someone was there that I was supposed to meet (after I sat around meditating starting in late 2013 for people to appear cause I was sick of feeling alone most of the time). It did after all happen. I am fairly adept at making fancy reality when I trouble to remember what I am capable of and stop wallowing in what cannot be done. (I am back to imagining energetic boundaries so that I can reside under this roof and hold onto my sanity and creative energy.)
I also like writing in here because it reminds me that words do come when you sit your ass down and start typing. So I went by the bookstore just to peruse, I like to see what is out there, when I glimpsed an interesting book with an eccentric plot revolving around people separated by distance and culture who become linked by their ability to talk to trees. And I thought to myself, “See, take yourself seriously. There is a lot of stuff out there getting published and your ideas and creations are not even the weirdest or else they have weird company in the world.” Even if all that riding into town to the bookstore does for me, aside from keeping my arse in shape (yes), is to reinforce the need to believe in myself, it is fully worth it. And it was nice when I rode off on Friday evening to see all of the people hanging about and the fading light, the ivy coming out on this one building on campus as it has been year after year. I realize that books are largely composed of in between spaces, the stuff occurring between bigger events. How you narrate the spaces in between is really what makes you a great writer. That and being able to progress from a beginning and manage a good ending, and not digress too terribly, and flesh people out, and…
Yeah.
Don’t overthink it.
I also like writing in here because it reminds me that words do come when you sit your ass down and start typing. So I went by the bookstore just to peruse, I like to see what is out there, when I glimpsed an interesting book with an eccentric plot revolving around people separated by distance and culture who become linked by their ability to talk to trees. And I thought to myself, “See, take yourself seriously. There is a lot of stuff out there getting published and your ideas and creations are not even the weirdest or else they have weird company in the world.” Even if all that riding into town to the bookstore does for me, aside from keeping my arse in shape (yes), is to reinforce the need to believe in myself, it is fully worth it. And it was nice when I rode off on Friday evening to see all of the people hanging about and the fading light, the ivy coming out on this one building on campus as it has been year after year. I realize that books are largely composed of in between spaces, the stuff occurring between bigger events. How you narrate the spaces in between is really what makes you a great writer. That and being able to progress from a beginning and manage a good ending, and not digress too terribly, and flesh people out, and…
Yeah.
Don’t overthink it.
