walking to the bus, I’m surprised by how completely my thoughts take over my mind and dis-allow me to be present. I should probably be wearing headphones. I should probably have left earlier. I should probably have a longer jacket on over this dress.

I make the bus with a minute to spare. I let the black woman on before me because of racism. tuesdays are the hardest days.

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I write things down because I have to. ten years ago, iphones didn’t exist. today, I’m laying on the grass in the front yard of our house in madison park. reading joan didion and drinking soda water like some kind of asshole. my feet beg to stay barefoot, but I shove my three dollar flip-flops back on them nonetheless. fold the yard blanket and go back inside to write it down. and what do I have to show for it? forty minutes in the yard, thighs warm from the sun, wrinkled dress, tousled hair, a muffled rejoicing that I wrote it down.

honey, what did you do today?

some knitting, some laundry. not much, but I did write down this little song.

has it been two months?

I’m writing in my head too much these days, with scant time taken to put pen to paper, and little to none set aside for even typing. life happens and I can’t stop writing, life happens and I don’t write at all. I’m in the middle of a should-be-writing-all-the-time time. at least this box is open, cursor blinking at me.

that’s not writing. that’s typing.

I know, I know. but starting is better than nothing.

life right now is a series of harsh, backhanded slaps to the face coupled with beautiful, gracious gestures: death and weddings. utter hopelessness / total joy. it begs for me to create things, but I’m afraid to let the art in me come out. little voices grown loud, telling me how stupid my ideas are. the noise wins the war more often than not.

I argue with myself constantly, and part of me sits silently in the corner of my head, observing. waiting for things to work themselves out. except ultimately, I’m the one who needs to step in and mediate.

may we always have patience, for we are on the right road.

in the same breath as all of this:

there’s tiny, tiny victories. little breakthroughs get through the cracks somehow. suddenly, I can hear everything as clear as day and I have bursts where I can close the gap. I’m here, typing. I opened my paints. I sketched some ideas. I started the bones of the new site. and I remember suddenly that it’s not all for nothing, after all.

and slowly, ever slowly, things improve. or at least look very much like something just like improving.

gentleness is a virtue, I suppose. to be continued.