|Copyright Andrei Lacatusu|
I repeatedly set aside a little time to write in this here blog and then proceed to have the weirdest sort of writer's block. Weird, because there is no writing required here, no need to write anything in particular or in any sort of way. It's purely for my own entertainment and memory. So silly to come up short, empty of words to say.
I blame the Social Media in part. Click on that photo above to see more of Social Decay, decrepit sign versions of social media names. There's something so satisfying about these! I am taking January off The Book of Faces, as I resolved to do (although in so doing, I missed a friend's fantastic dream that involved me, my favorite genre of dream! Thanks to my brother, I was able to read about it nearly in real time, phew).
Also, the amount of non-creative writing I do in a typical day has increased over the last year or two, and that may have something to do with it. That's actually one of the reasons I am attempting to keep this whole blog thing chugging along, so I don't lose my soul to marketing-speak.
Regarding the Em-Dash
Toward a Pathology of the Possessed
Between Angels, by Stephen Dunn
"Between angels, on this earth
absurdly between angels, I
try to navigate..."
Through the window I'm watching the sky turn strangely yellow-gray, as ice coats the trees and wires. The snow will melt before it gets bitterly cold again, which is a strange state of affairs for January in Maine.
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