Prelude; In The Morning, On A Day

Woke up before my alarm and decided to lie in bed for a little bit. Thought of all the times I had thought I could bend life per plan and smiled a little at the long list of times I had failed. There was a craving for coffee at this point, so I got up and made a cup, and put the cup beside the bed on the marble coaster. Dozed off for a little while and waltzed into a dream of the impossible again, only to wake up and realise the music was still playing. Turned the speaker louder and got out of bed, and sipped the coffee that had gone cold. Sat at the desk and replied to some messages. But no mention, no thought of writing until then.

Last year was a year full of writing, and it had little place for life. This one is not. This one has me putting off my words for others, time and time again. That is the long and the short of it. As for how I feel about it—it is not anyone’s concern.

But it is worth a thought, and so, I wondered what was different, and of course, it was that I had a job once again and a life once again. The very thing I advocate, the sun around which all my words revolve, is now, once again, eating at it. To live, to be a part of the world once again has left little time to write about it. I do not haggle with the good and bad of things, so I do not know how much of any this is, but there is little control I have over it anyway, now that I am in it.

I look at the Pessoa beside me and the Carver at the lounger behind. What would they think? I do not know. I have no goddamn idea what they would think. But I can do little when no plan works in this life anyway. You set a few ground rules, and then you watch it go as it goes, over and over and over.

Sat to write for a little while without a plan for where things will go. Reached the last line in time to begin working for the day. There is little else to say about anything else. My notes stay with me, and my memory is roughly reliable when it comes to the myriad of things that happen in life. I can always find time to write about the things I do not have time to write about right now.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here