Wednesday…that insipid day in the middle of the week.

It’s a bright sunny day in NYC, although a tad chilly for this sickly poet. Sorry, still recovering from a chest cold and that little wind that crosses the avenues chills me down to my bones and freezes up my capacity to breathe.

I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon writing poetry. It did the soul some good to get some phrases out onto the page. I have another three to finish before the end of the week. Yes, writing group meets up on Friday so I’m working on getting new material out to them. Deadlines work for me. Keeps me working and focused. Kind of.

My brain, these days, is a deluge of wandering thoughts. Chattering monkeys galore. I write to calm them down, sedate them down back to a more yielding nature. At the very least my writing puts them to sleep. That is not to say that my writing is boring, or at least I hope that is not what I am writing. I think writing gives me headspace to sort myself out. I get to the point where I am tired of hearing my own complaints and something must be done. Action must be taken on my own account or I will surely drown in this miasma of my own self-pity. It’s just not pretty.

As I write this blog entry (it’s a slow afternoon here at work) I am listening to Tori Amos’s album, From the Choirgirl Hotel. I always forget how much I love this particular album. The rock element makes me want to get up and dance around. Her song, She’s Your Cocaine is blasting on my iTunes and I can barely sit still. So there is head bobbing, foot tapping, and swinging my desk chair from side to side. Like I said, it can’t be helped. Wish I could blast it out as loud as I can in this quiet beige office and dance on top of my desk. Hmmm, I’m not sure it would be appreciated. Hehehe. That thought made me giggle out loud. My neighbor in the cube next to me must think I’m mad when I laugh quietly to my own blog entries.

Yes, so back to the writing life. It’s not easy dedicating lots of time to writing, so I steal bits and pieces and pull them together when I can. 20 minutes here, an hour there, a couple of poems, a couple of brainstorming lines…it all adds up. I do know that I need to set aside more dedicated time to the writing since it keeps me from losing my shit. An afternoon of writing has already straightened me out and has me feeling right as rain again. It’s a small miracle. I don’t use that word lightly because the way I was feeling this morning was short of tragic and after spending three hours putting words down on a page, I am already starting to feel a bit better. Tomorrow, I will put more time in. Perhaps, dare I say it aloud, even get up early before I get ready for work and put in three pages towards my new idea/novel. Be still my rattling lungs. We shall have to see on that front ‘specially since it takes every ounce of self-will to get myself out of bed in the morning. Wish me luck on that front.

Peace~

Lily

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