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.
2 comments:
"I felt a cleavage in my mind,
As if my brain had split;
I tried to match it, seam by seam,
But could not make them fit.
The thought behind I strove to join
Unto the thought before,
But sequence raveled out of reach
Like balls upon a floor." - E.D.
...either it's not time to write yet, or you haven't the proper midwife. I appreciated the (no longer posted) post on your dad -
only in chicago for three hours but i did manage to go to caribou coffee. they said it was free since i'd never been there. fabulous. good luck expressing your thoughts.
-lindsay
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