(no subject)
Right. Writing. That's a thing I do.
I haven't had much to say, I suppose. It seems odd--I feel like I used to be full of things to say. Now... silence. I spend a lot of time trying to maintain sort of baseline mental/emotional survival, so I spend a lot of time gravitating towards the most comforting, numbing fluff. It doesn't prompt a lot in the way of difficult or uncomfortable thinking, and thus, not a lot of writing.
I've got Richard Thompson's "Stuck On The Treadmill" stuck in my head:
Other may be living
But me, I just survive.
This entry was originally posted at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/739825.html. Please comment there using OpenID. You can read
comments on this entry at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/739825.html#comments.
I haven't had much to say, I suppose. It seems odd--I feel like I used to be full of things to say. Now... silence. I spend a lot of time trying to maintain sort of baseline mental/emotional survival, so I spend a lot of time gravitating towards the most comforting, numbing fluff. It doesn't prompt a lot in the way of difficult or uncomfortable thinking, and thus, not a lot of writing.
I've got Richard Thompson's "Stuck On The Treadmill" stuck in my head:
Click to viewOther may be living
But me, I just survive.
This entry was originally posted at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/739825.html. Please comment there using OpenID. You can read
comments on this entry at http://all-strange-wonders.dreamwidth.org/739825.html#comments.