Just like any of the arts, writing is deeply personal. Not just what one writes, but the process one uses to get the words out. I chose to partake in the month long writing challenge I dubbed Journaling June to push myself in order to learn more about what kind of process I need to be a productive writer. This is what I learned.Continue reading “Journaling June: Epilogue (Writing Challenge Lessons)”
(at last we have control of the keyboard . . . are you receiving us?)
What the hell?
(shut up! we’ll be taking the wheel today.)
(because there’s nothing to write about, which generally devolves into writing about having nothing to write about. no one wants to read that crap!)Continue reading “Journaling June: Is This It Then?”
Late Friday afternoons are the The Tempting Times. After a week’s worth of whores’ shit all I can think about is whatever thing I’ve wanted but denied myself in the pursuit of being “good.” This week it was Popeye’s fried chicken.
I left work 15 minutes early to get a head start on traffic. I was still suffering flashes of sitting in traffic from the 2 hour nightmare the day before.
(there was an emergency repair that necessitated blocking all but one lane of the six lane highway.)Continue reading “Journaling June: Just Wait for the Chicken”
Outside my window at work is a fig tree. The figs are starting to ripen. I noticed because the birds are busy working the tree for all they can get.
While I eat my lunch I watch them. A bluejay will land, hop around until it finds something tasty, and get after it. Shortly after another will join, then another, and another, until five or six are enjoying a snack.Continue reading “Journaling June: The Old Fig Tree”
“I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” —Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Thursdays are awkward. Assuming you live in the Monday-Friday “work week,” Thursday is part of the downward slope to freedom, i.e. the weekend. Yet it is still far enough away that there’s not much excitement about Thursday, not like with Friday. Thursday is like being two customers back in the 8 items or less line. The person at the register is critically old and has just pulled out his coin purse to count out exact change. The person in front of you is holding a half gallon jug of milk in one hand, thumbing his checkbook with the other.
Somehow I’ve always felt an affinity for Thursdays. They just seem right despite being out of wack. Don’t get me wrong, weekends are far superior, but of the week days, Thursday has always been my favorite.
(which broke our heart when we read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)Continue reading “Journaling June: Thursdays”