Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Ah, writing. Sometimes it flows like a tsunami - words falling like fluid onto cyber-paper in just. the. right. way. And then sometimes I sit at the computer and listen to the clock ticking. Tick, tick, tick, tick. A train pulls into the station nearby. Voices tell their own stories across this street and that. Tick, tick, tick, tick. I know there's a story in my head ... but where? Stuck in a synapse? Hidden between those neurons I killed off on my 21st birthday? (Which, by the way - if I killed them off, are they even still in there? Degraded and wilted? Or is it just a blank space now?) Wherever that story is, it's not coming out tonight. I can sit here and type for an hour, and we'll get nowhere.
So ... I'm going to be terribly exciting and eat some melon and make a cup of tea and go to bed. And I'll have another look for those words tomorrow.