After lunch today, I went to Caribou Coffee. I sought to begin writing about a recent six-month period of my life. In thinking about the project beforehand, I'd had many ideas for subject material. When I sat to write them, I blanked
I thought hard for five minutes, strenuously wrote one to two sentences, and collapsed back into my chair. I then grabbed my coat and took out my cigarettes, put my coat back on the chair, put a cigarette in my mouth, and walked out the door. In front, the store blocked the sun. So I walked to the side. I paced back and forth, attempting to gather my thoughts. I had two or three brilliant thoughts, two or three directions in which to move. I finished my cigarette and walked back inside. Sat down,
looked at the words in my journal
Nothing. I've decided to try using a voice recorder.
