You know when you haven't had sex for a long time and then you do and everything seems weird--like the pores of your partner seem a little gigantic and their genitalia a bit too pink? That's how it feels trying to write after a 4 month haitus. I'm trying to get to it--the job market, Zoe's hospitalization, the kitchen remodel, AWP--each worked to steal whatever writing mojo or motivation I had.
Now, when I sit down to write, my words seem pimply and my sentences awfully raw. I wonder if I can write while Zoe bounces or while I stuff QW envelopes or perhaps on the way to pick up tile????
On another note, or, speaking of genitalia, the lot they want to build on nextdoor has asked for a height and size variance. I want to go tonight to protest but I've gone to enough political meetings in Utah to know that I'll leave dejected and sad. And Zoe won't have that much fun either. But I think we'll go anyway. How can I complain about the 3 car garage I'm staring at if I didn't complain?
2 comments:
I wonder if it is like drinking and you have to do it one word at a time. I have no idea. Maybe you're being too critical of yourself... I certainly know how hard it is to try and work with the baby jumping. Maybe you could vaccuum seal her with glad press n seal.
My first visit to your blog, and thank you for the treat. I like what you have to say, and I like how you express yourself! Raw and pimply writing is a delicacy. Literary sushi. Delicious. (Or, as my twelve-year-old friend says about anything he approves of: Licious!)
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