(no subject)
I've determined that it's not that my ability to write has declined of late; my deficiencies lay in my inability to marshall the words I craft while walking when confronted with the stupefied yet expectant gaze of my computer screen. I put my best thoughts to paper on foot, but the paper is short-term, composed of synapses firing in my brain, and the words are the phrases I refine, repeat and inevitably mutter aloud with an exhalation of visible breath. My journal entries come in fleeting bursts that sometimes leave passerby within earshot no doubt imagining I'm wearing a cellular headset. Could someone so young and wearing such a tasteful coat really grumble syntactical fragments while doubletiming it on the pavement this Wednesday morning?
If I am already in training to exhibit this symptom of mental illness, the gremlins that surely accompany me do so only through crosswalks, sidewalk sewer grates and glances into commuters' eyes. Rarely are they at my fingertips, pressing the enter key or appropriately punctuated.
Why would my best ruminations be lost in solitary ten to fifteen minute increments? It must be a girl.
If I am already in training to exhibit this symptom of mental illness, the gremlins that surely accompany me do so only through crosswalks, sidewalk sewer grates and glances into commuters' eyes. Rarely are they at my fingertips, pressing the enter key or appropriately punctuated.
Why would my best ruminations be lost in solitary ten to fifteen minute increments? It must be a girl.