It gets more difficult to write, in some ways -- or rather, to bring myself to click the "publish" button. I tire of hearing my own voice, for one thing. For another, the burden of my failures weighs on me: so much of my writing has been of the preaching and exhorting sort, and I'm feeling less and less that I have any standing for that. Who am I to advise anyone on eye-motes?
And then, I am ever more acutely aware of how very little time remains. I used to write to kill time. I'm not feeling so spendthrift, now.
And this weather, this dark, sullen, sultry summer overcast, is weighing on me. I want to reach up and sweep the clouds away. Where is the sun?
But: this is valuable for me. To stop and write. Even if I start by writing the same old thing: even that will nudge me towards replying to myself, to taking it further, to going beyond. And I am, maybe, learning how to write in my own house. Dangerous; difficult; long overdue.
I run a hand over the tickle of my beard, the rasp of my unshaved throat, listen to the whirr of the refrigerator and the keen of my tinnitus. There's a sound just barely audible beneath those: the respiration of some gigantic creature under the ground. I am still surrounded by messengers and messages. I need to attend, for me as well as for them. I have to let it be all right, if the letters are dead ones. That's not my business.
7 comments:
Please, please keep writing. And I'm not sure there is such a thing as a dead letter. As you say, not our business.
Keep on pressing that "publish" button.
I recognise a bit of what you are feeling, I also think that I am going on and on and on... But this is blogging, not uni exam time.
I certainly cherish your posts.
YOU are a beautiful man! (I hope you know that.)
Perhaps a more purposeless writing. Give up the exhortations, make yourself some rules that feed what is best in you.
“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
Thanks dear friends! Thanks so much. I treasure you.
>>I am still surrounded by messengers and messages. I need to attend, for me as well as for them. I have to let it be all right, if the letters are dead ones. That's not my business. >>
I don't respond as often as I would like, but I am always here, hearing your words with love.
nice to know one of the best writers I know suffers unduly just like the rest of us.
Please keep writing. i love your fussings, groanings, grousing and musing. keeps me from feeling lonely.
PUBLISH.
what rbarenblat said.
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