Well, let's see *cOnTeNt*, you write....
It's tough. I lose interest in writing so quickly these days. What begins in earnest is quickly bludgeoned by "But *why*?!!" 'Tis also straight-jacket-ed by a sense of a writing state of mind being a sort of trance causing my surroundings to disappear, a sort of sin against here-and-now-ness. I return, wondering where I went, whether leaving was such a good idea, pondering if leaving is better than staying (here/now), and so on.
So it's like just getting to the first period (punctuation) has become exhausting.
I know, I know: I seem to be doing it just fine now.
But am I? Is this really worth reading?
Does it actually rise to the level of *cOnTeNt*?
I've a fairly good excuse for the ambivalence, because last night included a rather taxing music performance, and staying awake a solid three hours longer than usual.
And then there's getting bogged you-know-which-direction in thought fog.
Probably the best part of my day so far was watching a YouTube video showing the outs in David Wells' perfect game. Tears. I was a huge Yankees fan in those days, and that was quite the special cherry during so great a run.
Then I watched something on the making of The Beatles' "Here Comes The Sun", which somehow led to a bit of life Pink Floyd.
Chanced upon some conspiracy theory site in Gemini space that - not unlike writing, anymore - was fun until it wasn't.
How am I doing?
I hear ya - a jumbled mess (for me) of "To Write or not To Write, That's What Doesn't Matter", lmao. I am in decent spirits of late, weather changes. But it is to each their own what they do - step on bull frogs or manifest a document so well written it puts Jane Eyre to shame. Either way, it's fine :)
Did the Scuttlebutt tell you? Did the grapvine broadcast well enough? Did you read the post about me having 1gbit Internet now? I'll be 'round.
Talk on irc of zines and things, encouraging others, but just updates here and there, really. I lurk, everywhere, always. If you hear a distant keyboard through the rain and echoing off alley walls, stirring a "who's there" into the dark of the Web, it's me - the words written aren't for anyone, though. Just to stretch the fingers as I peruse randomness.
Reminds me of something else...
stay well :)