Today was one of those days where I battled not a mood or a funk but some perceived block. And now, finally, just before having to walk outside to get the company car I had to park nearly a half-mile away, I’m out of it. From under it, if I was under it.
Tonight in class, I continue with the consistency from last night, and that’s whim. I think that’s what I want to do. Sip of water, don’t want to walk down the street to get car. And, I’m not in much mood to do much in this EOD stretch. So what do I do. Write. About nothing. No wine tonight. That’s what I say but you know how that goes. Will need a cup of coffee for class, sip slow on way to Room then when there with the book-baggers, chug. Out-speak them. Out-run and write them. Can feel a charge, certain and immediate electricity in veins and hands. A fearless form overtakes me. And I love it. Hold to it. The perception is completely gone. Now feeling a restart and re-charge, re-write as I told a writer friend earlier.
Ready for class, ready for this me in the day’s second half, this re-written pace and presence.