Monday, April 27, 2009

I am, I am, I am

So... I have this desire to write.

Like, constantly. It never goes away. I am always thinking of words and phrases and quotes and lines.....but the actual execution never comes as fluidly. Sometimes it will all rush out in a great wave of feeling and accuracy, but other times I stammer and stall and wait for the inspiration to fall out of me-- and it never does. How can you have so much inside of you, so very much it hurts, and NEVER be able to get it out. Not completely. I need to write a "Villette". I need an opus. I need to have the patience to organize myself and take the time and take the energy and write more than a sonnet (even if my sonnets are great). :)

"To write is nothing, you just sit at the paper and bleed."


  1. you can have so much inside of you that you can NEVER get it out, because there is so much inside of you and its continually replenished. Can you imagine the horror of a drought?!

  2. Wise words, mister. It's no wonder I am in love with you.