creativity lapse and misanthropy.

Today, I've fallen between the cracks.
Today, I don't exist.
Today, I...


All I want is to believe that. I want to pack a bag of things I need to do and head to a book store, any book store with seating actually. But I doubt I would get anything done. So many unread voices sit on the shelves and I want to open each one and sit awhile. Mostly, I feel empty and want to fill myself up with the thoughts and ideas and longings of people I will never meet. I want to wade through their minds and keep what treasures I may find until I have enough materials to build.

Mostly, I do not want to do my homework or chores or, well, life as usual. I want to crawl between those cracks until time and deadlines and responsibility are words without meaning, dictators without power.

I promised myself that I would do some kind of art today, but I do not think I am able. The weight of work undone is yet too heavy, too distracting, too much. Even writing, I seem to write the same thing I have written before. Well, here it is, for better or worse:

-
Approach her gently.
Don’t make too many plans.
Don’t rely on your words for persuasion.
Make it a series of lovely actions.
Lovely to her, at least.
If you need help knowing,
If you cannot quite see
What her mind’s eye
And, indeed, her heart
Would call lovely...
Just ask.
That would be a lovely place to start.