the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
an infinite number of monkeys ~ August 18, 2006 - 11:44 p.m. sleepy, sleepy girl. soon enough for my bed, but writing is a thing. one of the things I am working at doing. I don't have to write well, I don't have to write beautifully, I just have to write. I've been reminding myself lately that in order to be a writer you have to be willing to write a whole lot of crap. it's true, ask any writer. (I wonder though-- william gibson-- has he ever written any crap? really? I want to believe it, but some part of me does not.) I lost touch with the idea of myself as a writer at some point. I'm not sure when. somewhere after I left the poetry slam scene, sometime before now. it felt like I'd lost the right to claim it, somehow. I'm working at it now. claiming it. taking back my sense of myself as one who works in words. holding myself to the commitment to write, even if it means writing a whole lot of crap. I am an infinite number of monkeys.
(((rings))) |