It's past midnight and I'm going to bed. I haven't gotten enough done tonight but that's no surprise, I've hit that point in the semester where all I want to do is everything else; even the short story that I am enjoying while I write it - well. You feel like stalling. You feel like pushing against the inevitable grain, the current, the unbearable stalking horse sensation of time ticking down. Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to have unexpectedly switched into second person from first person. I'm sure people are getting antsy.
That said, it's all right. I'm not sure how much of Tedford I'm going to get done tomorrow, because sure I don't have class but I have work tomorrow night and I have to pack for Seattle. But the story's at the point where I could just go right in and finish it if I could get that final brainwave that tells me what to write, what the characters want to say in the end. But it's hard to know what the last sentence is until you get there.
I posted a poem the other day and felt better for the process of writing it and rewriting it. It felt good - felt sexy - to play with the lines and push them around on the page until the white space and the text - the negative and positive spaces - worked together to make something hot. I walked away capable of writing a couple scenes for the story because I felt energized for a change instead of the slow burn out I've been harbouring in my gut lately. I noticed that the trend - the rant poetry that feels good when it comes out, even when it comes out badly or it trickles out like piss from a burning dick (what?). I don't know. This feels like one of those self-indulgent entries and maybe you best all ignore it, you know? But I've got to do something and this feels like a good thing and then who knows. Maybe I'll sack out and maybe catch some zeds and maybe just stare at the darkened ceiling until I want to pull my teeth out with my toes. Or maybe there's enough heat in my fingers to get the story going, pull something out of there and put it down in the story and make Tedford and June talk to me. Something.
I have a lot to do tomorrow. Hope I can get it up.