It’s long past the time when this site should be off the ground and I should be posting entries with seamless ease. Well, so much for that. Right now I’m stealing time from my kids, counting on the Smurfs to keep them occupied. It’s unbelievable that I even have that as an option. The truth is that time is an in increasingly valuable (and fleeting) commodity in my life. And I can’t control it. Sunday mornings seem to be easier – but it has to be early. Kids wake up groggy around 8 and are easily pacified by TV and some snacks. Then by 10am they need something more substantial from me as a parent. Then I’m fucked. Or my writing is fucked, rather. I don’t mind hanging with them. But I want to write today. I’ve put so much on hold for the past 5 years. I’ve done virtually no creative writing. Occasionally I’ll have some ideas, but follow through has been non-existent.
Ugh. What I didn’t want to do today is write about writing. I’ve noticed in the past that when I write about writing I even bore myself. Not when I’m writing though. When I’m writing I feel like I’m taking a monorail through the high canyons in my mind and interpreting the complex wall writings that my past, present and future have carved into the rock walls. Then I read it later. Boring. But the reality (sigh) is that what I have wanted to do is fuse all my writing interests together into one place – creative, memoirs, etc. A challenge is that I like to integrate some of that material with pictures. I believe that’s an artistic addition to my journals and I want to keep them connected. Then there is the issue of me having existing sites, with existing material. That means that I have to decide what to do with ‘the past.’ Do I want to just start over today? Try and migrate it all? Fuck. This post will self destruct.
I just put some pork I braised yesterday into a pot with a quart of hot New Mexico green chile and some other delectables. No idea what I’m going to do with it. Acorns are showering the roof right now. It sounds like someone is throwing rocks at the house, and no matter how many times or how often it happens I still find myself wondering what’s going on outside. Kids are calling.