Brain Matter

A simple idea is formed in my mind every few seconds, I don’t know where they come from, I usually don’t know where they intend to go, yet I appreciate every one so deeply. My mind sometimes feels like a busy New York street, buzzing and beeping! An awful thing here a delightful thing there, an infinite amount of action and not enough time to see it all happen piece by piece.

I kick myself from time to time because I do not sit down and jot anything down, all those thoughts wasted.. erased. So long New York, you talented state, I waste you away and I cannot give you one good reason why, this life is throwing everything at me and I think I have nothing. That’s wrong, I have my writing, my knitting, and a cute little puppy. I find comfort in the negative, again, not sure as to why. Forgetting there are things in my life to be proud of, sure I didn’t send a robot to the moon, or write the latest pop break up song. Yet by simply being me, by simply being here, that is enough to be thankful for. Hope is only a tiny little person walking down Bleecker Street, and one thought will only get ya so far. So here’s to you, you lazy shmuck, don’t forget to live the life you always said you would. There are people out there who are counting on you to fail, for their own feeble minds are ready to dine on your woes.

**Please share feedback, I’m having conflicting thoughts on this one. Thanks!


A letter to the Writer

Dear writer,
You should understand that I don’t mean to cage you. I don’t mean to hide you away, in fact I urge you to come and play.  Oh writer the ideas that are within you are pure perfection,  and I’m sorry that I am not doing you justice.  I convey your thoughts as best I can, but sometimes it feels all too much.  How do I brinf these people you’ve created to life? How do I build the world around them?  Please writer, help me, help you. I want nothing more than to give life to your ideas.

Write back, dear writer.

Fashionably Late.

Self discipline is hard.

So as I sit here, at my clean desk, listening to Christmas music while my dog hugs our space heater, I’ve decided it’s time to do something big.

It’s time to start my novel. 

I’ve had an idea for a while, yet I’ve been putting it off.

Lately I’ve been letting work be my excuse.

Why haven’t you been over?

I was working.

When can we chill?

I don’t know, I work a lot.

Honestly, it’s not even that I work a lot, I just don’t want to be around anyone.

So, I think now is the time to start something beautiful.