Day six. I have an index card tacked up above my desk that just says "show up for the words." So far, I have. In the past week, I've written over 3,000 non-poetry words. I've written four poems. Fifteen journal entries. Three blog posts.
Maybe I'll blog more this year. Maybe I won't. Either way, it doesn't matter. We're all going to die. In the relative scheme of things, we're all going to die pretty soon.
Last night I watched Hard Candy. A little Ellen Page kicking pedophile ass. It was a pretty good movie. I'm also finishing up my third book of the year. I have a pile of books next to my desk I'd like to get to. But the new semester starts on Tuesday. Soon after that, I begin working in the factory again. I always set high expectations for myself, and I rarely meet them.
Maybe I ought to start putting things on my to-do list like "drink a beer" or "complain about my body."
Tuesday after my first day of class, I'm leaving for Indiana to do a reading with my two favorite blonde poets. We're getting tattoos, and then we're going on a writing retreat. I have been looking forward to this for months. I'm almost sad to see it come and go.
But today I will water the plants and make bread. I will make a packing list. I will clean my desk, do laundry, put away my clothes. I will wash my face, and walk outside. I will do small things well.