I really don’t feel like writing tonight. It’s been a long day and I doubt I’ll be doing anything worth remembering or recording.
That doesn’t stop me from having to actually write. So here we are. Me writing and it not being all that great. Additionally, I doubt that the flow of this stream exercise will elicit any actual desire to write or any inspiration to be good. It’s just going to stick words up on a page to count.
Sometimes counting is all that it’s about. That’s what I told myself in the beginning. It’s still true, but it would be nice if I had picked up any skills. It rarely feels like I have. Avoidance I guess. Realization is another I suppose. Surprise even.
Doesn’t it shock you that after 150 odd days I still can’t get it together better than this? Can I really use kids as an excuse? I do. Can I?
Maybe I really do need to set that alarm and get up early in the fucking morning. Write when no one’s awake. Maybe that’s the guy I do end up being. It’s either that or the dude that quit his day job to take a chance at writing. You don’t hear about that guy as much as the first. Reason?
Let’s take stock: I have a pending concert report. I think it’s going well, but it stalled out when I got to the review part. I also have the father thing. That’s stalled out worse because I am thinking I need some research for it. Where the fuck am I going to find the time for that? Or the inclination?
Maybe I SHOULD set arbitrary deadlines for myself. I know deadlines work. I just don’t have much confidence in fake ones working. Or how to set a fake one.
Word count: 300