Tag Archives: whine

/frustrated (do it anyway)

stencil graffiti: woman in a coat, walking awayGood morning good morning —

I am frustrated this morning because I don’t have time for the real writing I want to do: an hour or more just on prep, on the freewriting that would clear my brain, then being able to focus in and on and through and down on one subject for one write, another hour, two, three. But there isn’t time. Rush rush rush. Some mornings I can feel the rush and work through it. Some mornings I just get swept away by it. The train never even gets to the track before it’s derailed.

Things I would be writing about, if I had more time this morning:

  • whether femmes are more sexist than butches (it’s an argument I’ve seen in rad-feminist & butch communities recently; where’s this coming from?)
  • writing as a way of both knowing and unknowing
  • friendjealousy
  • what I hope for from this delve into Lacan that I’m beginning
  • the Body Heat chapbook: you need to know about it, about who’s in it, and how you can get your own copy
  • possibilities for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival (this weekend!)
  • the languages we use to describe ourselves as queer and/or survivors, and how those languages both open us up and close us down
  • the books on my desk: derrida, peggy phelan, leslie marmon silko, dorothy allison, audre lorde, laura van dernoot lipsky
  • the urge always to have more to write about: where does that come from?

There’s a bright, light blue sky over the clouds and treetops out my window. Maybe that bodes well for the day.

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Quick Edit: Stopped in at the Peets on the way to work, grabbed a coffee AND a table, took time for three “morning” pages, handwritten fast in the notebook, look up and realize I feel much more human, more fragmented, more whole.

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Got your own frustrations? What aren’t you doing that you wish you were doing, that you don’t have time for (or aren’t making time for: me, too)? Take 10 minutes, or even 7, and write it write it, spill them all onto the page.

More soon — that’s the always promise. There’s never time, or there is. Do it anyway.

thanks for the ways you make space for what you thought you didn’t have room for. thanks for your resilient creativity. thanks for your words.