Spaces between inspiration
I’m writing again.
It’s all, and I mean ALL crap. But I love it. I’m finding my center again. When I was in the stupor of Graduate School I could feel the creativity I use to have in my fingertips, leaking out at inopportune moments. A flash of inspiration driving to work, or in the middle of a teaching session. Most of the time I hushed these moments, “Not now…” I’d think “I’m doing something else right now…” Like a rubberband thats pulled tight the acceleration of the retraction is causing more and more ideas to come. Faster and more diverse. Last week I was on vacation and not a vacation in the traditional sense of going somewhere different, trying something new, meeting new people. Instead I solidly spent the week at my house, enjoying the quiet unabashed freedom of being single, recently graduated, living alone, and quite honestly free to do as I damn well please. Purposefully, I didn’t write much last week. But still ideas came.
Hopefully, one of these will be fashioned into pages soon. Until then: a taste of how my mind works.
A fracked up love story about a serial killer and his only surviving victim.
A navigation about a woman having a date at her house, only to realize that she’ll have to share the couch.
A Los Angeles fairy who decided how bad of an overdose you’re going to have tonight.
A tribute to Apple Juice
The comparison of joys.
An ode to mens shoulders.