Daily Archives: June 26, 2014

a day without news…

Always something happening, and people talking about the happening, and sharing links about the happening, and always things happening of national importance.

I long for the power to cast a sleep spell across the world, and let everyone lie back, recline, and rest their eyes.

For one day, all bullets sleep. For one day, all cruel barbs and thoughtless words flame out before they touch the tongue. All sportsmen decline to appear, and no one is concerned about their absence. For just one day, the traffic lights hold still. No one drives, anyway. We just rest. Absolutely nothing happens. No one is born. No one dies. Nothing changes for one day.

We are drowning in the ocean of noise, of events, of human life pouring at us from every haunted windowpane, where ghosts flicker, and pinging beeps demand the buttons be pushed. We are drowning in this ocean of news.

Most of us have forgotten that we are, each of us, the drop that contains the whole ocean, and not a drifting particle of it, separated from our true place in the flood and flow.

For just one day, I imagine a day without news.

We all stay home. The televisions don’t turn on. There are plenty of leftovers in the fridge. The dogs are walked. The cats are fed. The children hide in their rooms reading books and playing board games. And we, the grown and serious, drink tea and watch the flowers bloom in the yard or the windowsill garden, and for just one day there is no news to distract us from the sea inside. Our journey into the silent land would bring us all such peace, a sabbath rest and a stillness of mind, and books, glorious books, to fill us up with the things too often drowned out by the NOWNOWNOW tides of updates and outbreaks and statements and developments.

Still the mind.

For just one day.

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rough around the edges

with a busted bed frame, we’ve been sleeping all over the house. replacement is coming in today. the broken bed had been slightly broken during a move, and broke completely, eventually, sometime in the night when we were too deep asleep to notice anything.

i’ve been sleeping on the couch, then.

i’m rough around the edges, exhausted, and too tired to write this morning.

so, i’m going to do it anyway. the difference, i guess, between a professional writer and an amateur, beyond the money, is that being responsible about one’s career requires writing even when one has been having bad dreams for weeks, and sleeping on couches, and waking up exhausted, dehydrated, hot. all i want to do is sit in a cool bath and listen to audio books and instead i am here.

books don’t write themselves.

i want to start a litmag called “modern economy”. it would have theme issues. it would be genre-agnostic. i can’t start one unless i make more money writing, so i have to go write.

so go write.

ready
steady
go

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