Monday, October 29, 2007

Old Patterns

I go for days with nothing to write; I have nothing much to say. But in those days I am absorbing things: people, places, conversations, thoughts, events. I take all of it in and churn it around until it all comes welling up out of me again. Then I have a few days where I can't stop writing, because all this wells up inside of me and I need to get it out and look at it. Then I am exhausted, and I give it a rest. But resting means watching. The wheels are always turning.

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
You fly though my head like wine...

Today was a writing day. My brain is busy, there's so much to plan, so much to dream about. I have a test this week, and another next week. I need to study. I need to decide what courses I'm taking next semester. My grandmother is coming to visit tomorrow. Soon it will be Halloween, one of my favorite holidays. I don't know what I shall do for that. A bonfire to scare away the spirits, perhaps? Did I mention I joined the film club? At least, the beginnings of a film club. NaNoWriMo begins in a few days, as well. What will I write? I'm never really sure.

Love, oh love, oh careless love
In your clutches of desire
You've made me break a many true vow
Then you set my very soul on fire.

Oh, but today was a fine day. A fine fall day. And in reference to the subject of my last post, I've decided that I should go with flow and not think about it too hard. (Too late for that!) That decision should last about three days... I'm smiling as I write that, though, because I know myself. The pattern is so reliable it becomes funny.

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
Night and day I weep and moan.

If you can't laugh at yourself, then what can you laugh at?

1 comment:

Bruce Johnson said...

For me, writing is a sort of therapy, a release, a steam valve. But I don't need therapy to to release steam every day....but there have been times when that wasn't the case.