I have so many words bubbling up, wanting to find the page, become black and white and thus permanent – but I’m letting them simmer and percolate.
My favorite line lately, in the music that fills the house when empty, is “I am a writer, a writer of fictions – trying to rid you from my bones”.
And that’s what writing is to me – some truth, some fiction, snapshots, bits & pieces, and the pieces – they don’t always add up to the whole. They are just bits & pieces – preserved.
I’m not trying to rid YOU from my bones – I’m trying to rid myself of the bits & pieces – the clutter – pages upon pages – but today, this week, those bits & pieces…
They are all I have….
I’m worried, I’m scared, I’m tired, I’m sleepless – but mostly – this is life. And I guess, big thanks to the Guy Up Above – for giving me a reasonable easy 35+ years – I can hardly complain about a couple of tough ones.
Coffee. Empty House. Music – just loud enough to sooth my thoughts, and clear the welling behind my eyes…