Sunday, April 8, 2012

calm down come down

It's been awhile since I coffeeshopped here, in a place that reminds me of a hippie hideout somewhere along the Silk Road before it was wracked with little dictators and civil wars, cardamom sludged coffee and Libyan-style tea, jazz music, fresh flowers, cushions, oud music and a woodburning stove.

I've been having creative writer's block for a few months now. Ideas evaporate before they can brew, and I'm left with fragments, shards of creative spark like barely glowing coals that I'm unable to breathe life back into enough to warm into something worthy. I tweak the little bits, honing them more finely before I add anything more. I'm sure if I get back into the routine, it'll begin to flow again.

There has been too much on the periphery that it's hard to escape into the realms of the imaginary. Of questioning as always, seeking moments of clarity, struggling with watching others fall apart. It's hard to want to change things or see things change and know there's nothing I can do but attempt in my own inadequate human way to love and do whatever love means in action.

1 comment:

  1. You know you're just dying to write Ode On A Go-Kart Gorilla, everyone loved that thing.