Wednesday, January 06, 2016
Rising
I can't write unless or, I don't know, until my head listens to itself or my heart or the subtle scratching at the door that says to line up my words and march them through my fingers and out into the fresh air. When I don't write it's as if I'm sitting a child in the corner and ignoring her completely. For days, weeks, or in this case over a year. Poor ignored child sitting in the corner. Let's get her out, shall we?
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2 comments:
It's funny how that is sometimes, isn't it?
No, I'm not stalking you. I just left your blog's RSS feed in my reader thing and this morning it said there was a new post. I had to go to the actual blog and read another couple of posts before I realized you were you.
Also, M. D. Anderson said they don't want to see me any more because I'm cured. I thought you might like to know that after all the other kind of posts on my sad, old blog.
All of which is to say "2016 is here. Yay!"
hi! ive missed you so.
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