(Perforated Lines)

(wet and wild)

(yesterday)Thursday, February 15, 2001(tomorrow)

 

11:38 p.m. I apologize, profusely and most profoundly, for finking out last night and not writing anything. It wasn't for lack of trying, either. I really sat here at the machine and tried -- for many many hours, but nothing seemed proper or right or worthwhile or ... what ... ever.

Here are the kinds of things I've been discarding lately (and why):

-- around the house --

I did the dishes or vacuumed or swept or scrubbed and ... I've done it before and I'll be doing it again, and who cares, right? If I write about these topics too often, you'll think (if you don't know me personally) that I'm obsessed with cleanliness ... or that maybe I'm sort of slovenly and lazy and that each time I clean something it's some sort of big deal that actually warrants a passing note.

Hmmmm. I hope I raised cleaning to an art form once, a long time ago in a city far, far away -- but that was in another life and that was when I thought creative writing was going to change the world. Now, I clean more and write about it less.

And will creative writing change the world? I wish I knew. I wish I knew why I'm not writing short stories or novels or even, lord love a lame duck, screenplays.

What is wrong with my wiring lately? I've been wondering. I'm not that interested in music, for instance. I let the whole Napster thing pass right by because ... I'm not feeling connected? The stuff that thrilled me as a teenager, young person, divorced person ... doesn't anymore? Do you have to be in crisis, or lonely, or broken-hearted to appreciate a good tune?

But, we won't go there tonight. Maybe another night. Tonight we'll merely deal with the writing issue and perhaps touch on the purpose-of-life issue. Hit the white keys, avoid the sharps.

I took that stupid gender test, and of course it thought I was a boy. A guy, a manly man. Go ahead -- there are 50 questions and it only takes a few minutes ... I'll wait. That's probably a manly thing to say, dang it all.

I don't like the color blue all that much. I love pockets and think they are very convenient. I'd also rather be lonely than bleeding. I also think the Internet is more important for information than communication and I'm sure that was the problem with the test.

I'm all over the map here tonight. That's a feminine trait, by the way. Circular reasoning -- but I happen to like squares a lot more than circles. You can fit more squares in a space, it's as simple as that. How hard is that to figure? Why oh why do I feel out of place everywhere?

Oh. A lifestyle lament is upon me. I work at home, but should I? I clean the house when I need to think -- usually about work-related items -- and is that so wrong? That way, I get a nice clean house and I'm not that far from the machines if a solution presents itself, ok? Sheesh.

Oh yeah -- I finally got outside and took some pictures of the rain. Yeah, yeah -- it's better to get outside every once in a while. Beautiful day and all that. And yesterday I did a whole bunch of outside sweeping and cleaning up and let me tell you: I felt absolutely wonderful afterward.

Very accomplished. Cobwebs cleared away from windowsills and from behind some of my thoughts. But I don't want to write about such things -- wouldn't be creative and all.

Don't know what's wrong with my confidence. Lost it or misplaced it or maybe it's just that time of the month. I had to say that, you know. It's my wounded masculine pride and all.

 

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