But Now Am Found
Last night I stayed up ’til nearly 2 am, writing. On paper. Laptop off, typewriter put away, just pen and ink on the page.
For 5 1/2 pages.
Lately I’ve been wanting to write more, socialize less. Just hole away with my books and my thoughts in my little apartment. Except that I haven’t been writing fiction, or poetry. I’ve been writing letters, making lists, working on getting this blog back to where it once was–a place of pleasure and expression.
Mostly, I’ve been writing in my journal.
I guess you could call this my Harriet the Spy phase.
A couple Fridays ago I got super stoned off of a cookie, almost too stoned, but then I harnessed it. I walked home miles and miles, just thinking my thoughts and loving myself and being okay with everything. Feeling…capable. Like I could handle whatever Life may throw at me.
I’ve had this feeling before, while stoned. The problem is, I don’t want to get stoned all the time. Plus, it doesn’t work like that. As Sarah Silverman would say, you have to “make it a treat.”
So I’ve been trying to recapture that feeling, and last night was the first time I was able to. I spent all day yesterday just doing as I pleased, alternately relaxing and being productive. Doing whatever was most fitting for that particular moment. Then last night, a wave swept over me, this FEELING, and I held onto it tight, I followed it.
Then I went home and wrote until nearly 2 am. 5 1/2 pages, Friends.
I think I’ve found my groove again.