I was invited to participate in a reading tomorrow evening with some friends and their friends--people who enjoy writing, want to share their writing, and want to be inspired by others' writing. I'm quite excited about it and am going through my files trying to decide what to read--something old and unseen by human eyes other than my own? something new? something that I write tomorrow?
Occasionally when I get blocked up or when I have too many things swirling in my head to make sense of, I do some free writing. I've found a bunch of these tonight as I look through old folders and thought I'd share this one. It's simply labeled, and quite short.
Free writing May 2008
The trim was uneven. Jagged edges. Seems symbolic somehow. The weekly seven minute phone call. We check in, confirm that we’re okay. We say goodbye. It seems like there should be more to say. My words lately come in spurts. I try to censor them—to dam them up—for everyone’s good. But sometimes the pressure builds up and they come gushing out until I can make repairs again. Little bits accumulating around me. Probably I should take care of them before they become overwhelming. Probably. Feel like I am in limbo. Patience does not come naturally to me. I wonder if others wonder the same things. I’d like to harness just a little bit of that again.
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