I’ve written a bunch of blogs this week and not published a one of them.  One is a rant about things and it just isn’t right, and frankly it’s boring to have this general rant.  I wasn’t even able to get the gist of it right in person when I talked about it.  Another is a long and rambling thing about processing fear that I’m pretty sure nobody cares about and I think I’ve already written anyway.  And one is a gushy ballad of a thing about this incredible sexual experience.  But I didn’t publish it, because really.. how many times can I write about that?

Sometimes writing is difficult.


  1. I can’t write right now. The thoughts flit like ghosts and my leaden fingertips cannot capture the beginning of one idea before the end of another has disappeared into the ether.

    I write to process, and this inability to do so leaves me feeling stymied.


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