Coffee: Sumatra Medium Dark, Trader Joe’s Brand
I took a short walk. About one third of the route I usually take.
There’s been this tension in the air – hot days, cold days. It feels like the world’s a toddler trying on school clothes. And that’s made it hard for me to focus. One side wants to run out and rip a hole in soft, black dirt. Another wants to drink hot coffee by a cold window.
I’ve been working through this novel. It feels real to sit at the computer and write, whether its for four hours or fifteen minutes. I wonder sometimes why writing feels like that to me. Everyone’s got it – that something that makes them tick. But where does that come from? Who gets to choose what passion will devour you from your toes up?
I shared my pot of coffee with two old friends this morning. I didn’t really want to. I would have rather been alone. But they were there and so I shared it and in the end that was okay too.
Novel Count: 24,930
Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami
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Jumping from boulder to boulder and never falling, with a heavy pack, is easier than it sounds; you just can’t fall when you get into the rhythm of the dance.Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums