18 December 2009

Morning

The sound of the radio hauled me into the present, the inane chatter dances along the borderline between bearable and irritiating as always, and as always I think about retuning it but don't, the well worn dialogue of my internal debate seeping through my conciousness.
Waking up knowing I haven't written anything for 4 days, recoiling from the derisive voice telling me I've letting people down again, no surprise there; recoiling from waking up as me.
Perhaps the radio is part of the problem, I wake up with other peoples words in my head, song lyrics being particularly pervasive, today I will find it difficult to forget "I'm safe, up high, nothing can stop me, so why do I feel this party's over?"  But every day, more words, more phrases, not just songs but fragments of speech, words I have read or written or thought.  They jump into my head and whirl around, dropping some bits and connecting to others, and how then do I tell if it is my voice speaking when they come out?
Small wonder then that I trust the only distinct voice I know, the one that tells me to forget about trying, it won't change anything, just turn over and go back to sleep.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Julia. I found you on 6S and commented on this particular blog there. I was just thinking, and half expected to find some evidence here in a possible list of favorite books, but have you read Julia Cameron's books? She's good medicine for blocked writers or any other type of artist. She recommends something called, The Morning Pages, which is a sort of writing practice/mind cleanse. Anyway, check her out if you haven't already. I like your work. Good luck with that getting out of bed. Visit my new lonely blog at http://wabisabiwords.blogspot.com

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