Wednesday, March 18, 2009

03.18.09

I am having one of those moments...when I am writhing in my own skin.
When the glorious mild March day is wasted away on this abject bad mood.
When the writing is not coming along and anything I'm reading is barely delicious.
When there are things to be done and errands to be run and I can't face it...any of it.
I want to scream from the top of my lungs because it's the only sound to slice through this meekness.
There is raw tension along my jawline and I want to press it away.
There is tension held in the back of my throat....it's like an ache...right before a good cry.

It's frustrating. It's like losing a sense of one's self.
Turning myself inside out and wondering why I feel so naked.
Perhaps I take things too seriously...this is what I hear from friends...I think too much.
Really? What does that mean anyway?

Perhaps, I am too close to the material.
Perhaps, I don't know how to create enough distance between who I am and what I write but that's where I am right now in this process.
To try to break that enmeshed reality is to try to pry it apart with a crowbar.
Dents in the surface. Deep cuts along the bruised ego.
Damn ego needs to go.

*****************
Jumping ideas....because really this is the way my brain works:

I've been reading Wetlands by Charlotte Roche and it's strangely fascinating. At times it's too gross for my very sqeamish stomach but it makes me laugh out loud at the strangest times...for the weirdest reasons. I understand the dichotomy of this modern world and ultra-cleanliness and how this book is breaking all the boundaries by using bodily fluids in direct contrast throughout the narrative. The main character Helen just has a unique way of interacting with the world. All messy, naked and spreading her bacteria all over the place. Ick!


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