Some days are just like this
Writing never seems to come easy to me. The thoughts do, the ideas, the words. But sitting down and committing them to paper or screen is always such a chore. Maybe that’s why I’m always drawn to doing Whitman-esque lists. There needn’t be any continuity between items, just a dump of things on my mind. I can ramble off the thoughts without having those pesky transitions. The pauses are allowed. The moments of blankness, where I stare off, thinking of something else, worrying about what to have for dinner, or where I’ve left the phone.
I like lists. Bullet points. Question and answer style interviews at the back of the Sky magazine. The late novels of David Markson. This is what I read, this is what I write.
Maybe I should write a list a day. Catalog the fleeting thoughts with numbers and bullets and maybe those fancy arrow things. Maybe that’s what I already do with Twitter.
Things I don’t like:
- When things make your hands smell.
- Running out of pages in a notebook, only to realize that it’s all been a waste of paper.
- Throwing things away.
- The end of the day.
- Forgetting things.
- Noisy eaters.
- People talking on mobile phones on the bus.
- Quiet moments of reflection when there’s nothing to reflect upon.
- Not being able to concentrate on things.
- Having nothing to say.
- Having things to say, but not having the energy to say them.
- All forms of writers block.
- Dried fruit.
- Flavourless beers.
- Waxy milk chocolate.
- Generally, anything on the paperback bestsellers lists.
- Getting hit on the head with an apple.
- The time it takes laundry to dry most of the year.
- The smell of new black jeans.
- Other forms of joint pain.
- Headaches, especially clusters and migraines.
- Moments of silence for things I don’t give a fuck about.
- Selective listening.
- Cold toes.
- Self pity.
- Unresponsive editors.
The big problem is that I never know when to end lists. I could keep going on. I hate lots of things. It’s easy to bitch. It’s harder to come up with things I like, actually. I’m just that sort of person.