Constipated
Not that kind of constipated. I mean I can't write.
I was just telling S this over the phone earlier today. I really don't know what to do with myself when I can't use the time to write. I end up wandering around aimlessly, trying to think of things to do, actually thinking of things to do, but then not having the motivation to actually do them. I should clean the kitchen, bathe Simon, go to the taylor, drop off donation clothing to Out of the Closet, call A, work on converting a short horror story to a screenplay, clean the kitchen. Yeah, I really need to clean the kitchen so I threw that one in twice.
My mother just called me from Ft. Davis out in far west Texas. Every Memorial Day my parents meet up with my sister and her family, they get cabins out there in the desert mountains, and they have a grand, fun time. The last time I went with them was 1999. I moved back to Dallas thereafter and it is just too damn far from there to Ft. Davis in a 3 day weekend.
Memorial Day always sucks for me anyway because it commerates a rather tragic event in my fairly dull life. I always end up feeling lonely and especially pathetic. I felt lonely and especially pathetic when my mother just called and I could hear my nephews and brother-in-law talking in the background, my sister listening to the conversation between my mother and I and throwing in her own goofy comments, and my dad not saying a word and most likely driving with a stoic expression on his face, on the hunt for any store in the vicinity of tiny Ft. Davis that sells beer... it makes me miss them all terribly.
Unfortunately I am completely incapable of joining up with my characters and dissolving into another time and place. Ah well, such is life.
I was just telling S this over the phone earlier today. I really don't know what to do with myself when I can't use the time to write. I end up wandering around aimlessly, trying to think of things to do, actually thinking of things to do, but then not having the motivation to actually do them. I should clean the kitchen, bathe Simon, go to the taylor, drop off donation clothing to Out of the Closet, call A, work on converting a short horror story to a screenplay, clean the kitchen. Yeah, I really need to clean the kitchen so I threw that one in twice.
My mother just called me from Ft. Davis out in far west Texas. Every Memorial Day my parents meet up with my sister and her family, they get cabins out there in the desert mountains, and they have a grand, fun time. The last time I went with them was 1999. I moved back to Dallas thereafter and it is just too damn far from there to Ft. Davis in a 3 day weekend.
Memorial Day always sucks for me anyway because it commerates a rather tragic event in my fairly dull life. I always end up feeling lonely and especially pathetic. I felt lonely and especially pathetic when my mother just called and I could hear my nephews and brother-in-law talking in the background, my sister listening to the conversation between my mother and I and throwing in her own goofy comments, and my dad not saying a word and most likely driving with a stoic expression on his face, on the hunt for any store in the vicinity of tiny Ft. Davis that sells beer... it makes me miss them all terribly.
Unfortunately I am completely incapable of joining up with my characters and dissolving into another time and place. Ah well, such is life.
2 Comments:
Well, for someone who is "constipated" this was a good post.
So, what are you doing in California, exactly?
Thanks.
What am I doing in California exactly? Dunno. Wanted to move out of Texas and it all just came together for me here...
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