It's been a week of writer's block. And a day of complete worthlessness. I listened to the strained sounds of coffee brewing, spent a grey afternoon on top of cold sheets, and kept my eyes closed for as long as possible. I attempted to hack out some poems earlier, but they all wilted on the page. I thought about posting some old pieces, but that felt too defeatist. So, these are the thoughts of the thoughtless.
I'm not really thoughtless. In fact, I have far too many items competing in my brain blurred by recent rejection of the amorous sort. It happens every time I face the self-doubt of not being what someone else wants. I have so much I want to say only to have it take the shape of heartache hangover and verbal vomit. Words attempting to capture brief and lovely moments - thinking the words on the page makes those moments real, permanent. But what I typically end up with is an abstraction of what went wrong.
I suppose if I learned to doubt myself less and discipline my writing habits more; I'd be more prolific and effectual. If I learned to not take every slight personally, I wouldn't churn out drivel such as, "unlike the descents before, this one hasn't bruised or caused a minor concussion. It has merely left me fidgeting with bits of loose gravel and pressing the rough edges into the soft spots around my knee. Envisioning the trickle of blood and consequent rust tint around a future scar."
I'm hoping after a few more rehearsals I will have new inspiration for posts. Posts about celebration of the female form, humor, shaking my "thing," and adventures at the Tango. I promise to spare you all of self-deprecatory pieces about failed dates - unless they end up being incredibly humorous. Which knowing myself, is a distinct possibility.
this blog got me thinking about how funny it would be to post things from the past, like failed dates! or other funny stories of any form!
ReplyDeleteDoes freewriting help? Pick a poem by random and think how it could've been rewritten had Poe taken a shot at it? Taken a poem and tried to figure out how it could be rewritten with zombies? And if you don't like one - examine the why. Maybe then you will find the why not. Or just spin around listening to Abbey Park. Or lay out (somewhere safe) and gaze up at the stars and wonder what worlds, what cultures, what poetry are being born, striving to live, and passionately (in their version of emotion) writing poetry about their experiences, their world, their image of nature.
ReplyDeletetalks_to_kitties (wasn't that a song title from Paint Your Wagon? Oh, no, that was Talk to the Trees...I digress, and so soon). where was I. ah. that's a brilliant idea. A blog of shame, or as we call in in our household - entertainment. Here a crash in the kitchen and we here, Ah, I have an entertainment to tell you. Could be fun, if not for our readers, at least for us as we dive into our failures, fumbles, and other "entertainments" over life. Hmmm.....
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