It's been a while since I wrote anything here: I just seem to be too busy. But then I know Danieru is too, and he still manages to post post after post. Following his lead, I have a piece about boxes nearly done, and one about novels. They're unfinished, and on my mind. They have been for a while.

When I was desperate to relieve myself of the weight of the unwritten, I sat and drank instead. A temporary fix, I thought, but it wasn't even that. I took the bottle's contents and gave it mine. Still I wanted to make my offering to the ether, click 'PUBLISH' and shrink my mental inbox. It's funny what embeds itself in your consciousness if you hold it there long enough. I was avoiding thought, but my brain was still going like a flywheel, whirring 'write, write, write'. But there was no way I could pick up a project started in sobriety.

So here's a poem that fell out of my loose head. (To experience it as I did, save it to your desktop and be surprised to find it in two days.)

drunk poem22.53 070321.txt

The drunkenness revealing what's set into his mind,
he flinches his password onto the keys.
This is what I've become?
A beast with computers on its fingers,
narrating simple detail as if it's great fiction in the making?
It's an engrossing story,
but nature is no creative.

The message is clear: stay dry and finish the thing about boxes...

Categories: Weird, Human