Monday, September 22, 2008

Now would be the time I would like to write -- when I need to write, to get all these things out of my head and onto paper in some sort of a cohesive fashion. Get something flowing; anything, whatever it is. A poem, hiding in those deep recesses, waiting to be treated properly, brought out in the light where it belongs. A thought that has been hibernating, but never has the chance to see the spring or summer. But now is also the time when I can't write, because I haven't the time. I haven't the clarity. There is always that paper, those papers, in the back of my mind, due tomorrow, but against which my very being rebels. I don't really have the time to write it, because I'm tired and it's been a long day, but if I did have the time, would I write it? I don't even have the will. What happened to me? When did I stop loving this? It was all I had left... and now? That idealism that used to be my fuel is all but turned to cynicism... I don't know. And winter is come again...

7 comments:

William Michaelian said...

Often, it seems the best thing you can do is to give in and write your poems, and not feel guilty about it. And then the “meaningless” work will come more easily, return to its natural perspective, and even have meaning again. Of course, I’m a nut, so you probably shouldn’t take my word for it.

~im just only me~ said...

I think you're right, thank you :) ... but it's true, you are a nut :P

William Michaelian said...

Thanks. I come by it honestly.

~im just only me~ said...

(that's what you tell everyone; but sure haven't I seen you bartering with an old man in a dark alley...)

William Michaelian said...

Yes. I admit it. And we exchanged identities. Now I’m him and he’s me. I wonder who lost out in that exchange!

don't be emily said...

Let me put out there that you are both nuts; and Cass, you still need to write your papers! Even if the poem has to come first, for some illogical and inexplicable reason. And don't give me some kind of garbage about smothering the muse to write the prose. That would be called dull reality. And yes, I am heartless.:) (NUBVB, by the way)

William Michaelian said...

NUBVB: Not Understood But Very Believable.

(He said that, not me. Oh no I didn’t! You said it!)

See what I have to put up with? It’s not easy being two people, I assure you.

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