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Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Poetic Justice

Recently, I have been "snowed in." And that may mean NOTHING to some, but if anyone has ever been snowed in, they know what I'm talking about....No stores, no shows, no outside frollicking--NOTHING. Well, I suppose one can "play" in the snow, if one wishes, and of course, there are those--like me--who MUST go out into the snow to give their little critters license to deposit doggy dumpings... ( I have 2 little Yorkies!) So it isn't completely "snowed in," I suppose.

Nonetheless, my girlfriend tells me, "See it as a good thing....you can Write more!" She is correct in saying this, and I tell you the truth: I find my self working like the Dickens on my writing projects at present, and this is good, it really is!


But! And I do mean BUT! My one complaint, discomfort and displeasure is SITTING for hours. There is only so much a butt can take...

I find my self getting up, dancing the Macarena; singing along with Sade on "The King of Sorrows," or clicking the tv remote on for 10 minutes at a time, switching to every channel only to rediscover there is nothing good on tv in the day hours, and then I might venture out into the patio, pray silently at the sun's direction, hoping for sunshine, and then go back into my desk arrangement, and begin writing again...


Sometimes I even stroll about and read a Shakespearean play aloud, or a poem, and just get into the character....But I always return to the keyboard, and re-write, edit, or write anew, some dialogue, some poetic ponderence, some song of passion and longing (for that secret someone), and then I get back to business: WRITING.

I didn't choose Writing: it chose me...In fact, if you know of any little children who can't stop talking, and who no one wants to listen to, that was ME some....-odd years ago. Suffice to say, if you won't listen now, you'll end up reading what that Talk-in-the-Box, Chatter Cathy, Gabby six to 13 year old Kid has to tell you--

Writers NEED to write, because they need to be heard, and if they can't be heard they need to be READ, so I go back to the drawing board, or the keyboard, and until my next fix of the Macarena or Shakespeare, or Sade, I continue to make my butt ache...All for your ATTENTION...Alas! There is the Rub!

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