I woke up at mid-night with a fairly sordid ache. 3 hours later, am much the better. Maybe, blogging is my poison as well.
On a related but yet digressive note….
I actually write very well at night (by my own standards, that is). My “word smoothies” flow out so much more easily in the silence and incongruity of the night. (Actually, its not silent, I have been playing “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits on infinite repeat for the past 2 hours.)
So why do I write, or how do I decide what to write?
I don’t really know. I really don’t :-)
(Quote from Good Will Hunting
Will: Beethoven, okay. He looked at a piano, and it just made sense to him. He could just play.
Skylar: So what are you saying? You play the piano?
Will: No, not a lick. I mean, I look at a piano, I see a bunch of keys, three pedals, and a box of wood. But Beethoven, Mozart, they saw it, they could just play. I couldn’t paint you a picture, I probably cant hit the ball out of Fenway, and I cant play the piano.
Skylar: But you can do my o-chem paper in under an hour.
Will: Right. Well, I mean when it came to stuff like that... I could always just play.
)
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