sometimes i come away from a situation really wanting to write and knowing what about, a message to convey. other times i don’t feel there’s anything to write on but feel i must. sometimes like now, i feel like i want to write but have no idea where to start. the concept of “what should i write about” is the ultimate bloque. elvis costello gives me rythm, no voice is too distracting. maybe the vines are a little better.
i have been the jealouse ex boyfriend and recieved lectures on what is best to do. best for me, best for the other. it sucks, i wanted to know everything, without knowing why. i wanted to know that i meant something, that all the words we had exchanged, the intimate times were not going to be laughed at or worse forgotten. the more i learned the more i wanted. those wise, turned me away. for fear, for concern, for love. a soul i respect, once told me that sometimes the greatest form of love is space. well intentioned and delivered space can be more loving than any hug, worry, kiss, look, or thought. i dunno, losing steam now…