Tired

"I was tired of ideas, or, rather, the activity of ideas, a kind of exercise, had first invigorated me and then made me sleepy, so that I felt just as one does after a long, early morning walk, returning unable to decide whether to drink more coffee or go back to sleep." --Lyn Hejinian "My Life"

I begin the day with coffee hoping to reimburse my mind with stimulation. I walk up to the computer and hope there are words already there. Written in a way that I fall in love with myself again, this time enough in love to write more than just a few sentences to delete.

I try petting the cat or re-reading something I read a long time ago. If I'm not yet published how can I have writer's block. If no one has acknowledged my greatness how am I great.

I forget about productivity for awhile. Eat a bagel. Then another bagel. Too much starch for one person. I crave sugar. Caffeine. Words that are easy to pronounce. "What if I'm at a public poetry reading and forget how to say the word I wrote." Fears like that separate you from me.

My life is not as interesting as her life so I quit. What about the summer of '04. What about it? Was it special? What about the first kiss after the power went out for weeks. What about it. What about the air was so great.

Write what someone else knows.

I put down the pen in order to savor life but then I got bored. I am sleeping right now. What about misspelling. I misunderstand words all the time but I can still spell them.

Write now. Right now. Wright, now. Right, meow.

For the first time in history I will create a space for you to comfortably live in. A place where you can sleep in the corner and I will never bother you.