Keep It Regular
I don’t really feel like my writing system fits into too many methods that the big writers seem to write about. Longform works derived from regular shortform. Poetry as an exploration of ideas that I then work up into fiction. Writing about…
unzip the skin suit drop it in the trash the moment you dash out through the crash of the wave that washes you into the grave or at least the flesh and then you rise fresh like a weight of breath to…
I am trying to get back in the rhythm of writing again. This year has been harder in terms of energy to write than any I have encountered before. I always thought of block as not having anything to say. Instead it…
Keeping anything regular has been a little rough for me in the last few years. Things have changed a lot jobwise, whether it be all those months working from home, or the more recent end of my main gig. I have been…
Today was somewhere between slug and sloth. I napped earlier in the day and I napped just before 10. 10 is when the cats get fed so you are guaranteed to get woken up. Waking up from a short nap is a…
I have watched 20 or so films directed by John Huston in the last week — most of them as part of a Criterion Channel-themed selection, and the rest hunted down for the sake of being complete. Some of them I have…
(I started writing this before the thing I posted this morning, but maybe there’s some value in it.). I’m sure I have talked about exhaustion before. It’s not always characterised by not being able to get up and do things, at least…
This year’s been a slow one in terms of writing. I have lacked not just physical energy at some points, but also the mental energy to arrange my thoughts into writing. Sitting down and slipping into a state of repeated useless actions…
the inexact language holds up a mirror cracked a willed error by a dogmatism backed a generosity of spirit lacked into the corner backed the overpainted image dead a hack writer over an exquisite corpse hacked an earworm burrowed into your head…
it’s a cold morning you can hold your breath a mist bank moving giving shape to an easy dream it hangs like a photo on a milk wall stood dreaming it alone in a room full of people crows fly straight roman…