remember how you used to say I'd be the one to run away

    I'm having a difficult time writing again. Not for lack of subjects, or even creativity. It just seems to be happening during periods when I can't actually sit down at the computer and type it out. Ideas come to me throughout the work day; bits of remembered dialogue and photos to scan float from deep in my memory randomly; when I'm driving, I'm laughing to myself, imaging how I'll write the weird interpersonal aura that seems to follow me through this town. Once home, however, and surrounded by bills to pay and laundry to, y'know, launder, it all gets bottled up again. Trapped in some part of my brain that's less accessible than whatever part controls filing and folding. Paul Russell said it just right in The Coming Storm: “This subject he knew everything and nothing about. It wasn’t so much that he had no thoughts in his head, but rather that, constipated from years of withholding, they now refused to issue forth.” I'll give them another day. Maybe tomorrow.