Weeks have passed since I last made a post, as each one passes faster than the last. Soon I forget that I'm a writer and the thought of setting out to complete any piece is daunting, at best. The fact is, I have written, I just haven't finished anything. At the moment I have at least ten drafts which are 1/3 undone, sitting, waiting to serve some purpose. Even if their only reason for being is to placate me. Sometimes I'll take a few pieces, cannibalize them, and allow something new, more current to emerge.
Summer unfolds with warm days and cool nights, on which I like to sit outside, in the dark, and stare at the sky and completely lose myself to it. The night thrusts upon me a calm, as it demands my attention I have no choice but to live in the moment. Living in the moment is fuckin hard, y'all, it goes against the way we as people are wired. What makes it even harder is when one tries to rewire their brain, everyone else around them is still plugged in to the matrix. Yes, I still reference stupid, old movies.
So, I'm still alive and functioning and I haven't been feeling very creative. That shit comes and goes, I try not to stress about it. Oftentimes getting out of my head is the best thing I can do, but in order to write I have to brave that territory once in a while. Just not right now, I'm kind of enjoying the quiet.