I don’t know if it’s the Espresso or the Hallelujah Violence of Spring and Summer, but this last month has been crazy un-blog-able.
I mean, things happened. Sure.
Great, tremendous, life shaking-changing-bedazzling events.
The things my memories will rest upon in dying days.
But it’s nothing to put into Writing. Not yet. It’s mostly thoughts, really.
I’ve been reading. And I’ve been writing. And something just clicked.
It’s…as if…I’ve been drawing pictures in a booklet, and one day, someone walked up and flipped the pages, and showed me that my drawings can move.
I have never been more excited about words.
If they were single, I think I would want to fuck them.
(Do not fuck letters, for they have edges, and can spell out everything you did to them.)
Two nights ago I finished another chapter of this novel, and last week I think I had as close to a religious experience as a clear head and an iPod can give you.
I am halfway through with the novel. I think. At the very least. Maybe even more so.
How can you measure something that is growing?
Math, probably. But I’ve never done well with that sort of learning.
(Numbers have a lot of edges, to be sure, but their purpose changes too easily)