The stars said I need to write. I know they see me. The world is coming back to life and the draft is still unfinished. Do I start it all over or try to land the plane in a random field somewhere, just to say it’s done?
The shitty first draft. A play that can be worked and reworked and cast and rehearsed and turned into a story playing to a room of people who might or might not care.
When I started writing it, quarantine had just started and I was lonely. Am still lonely. Writing a play about a three-way in quarantine seemed fun. Create characters when there aren’t any around you. At first it was fun. The words came easily. Scenes and ideas and dialogue, funny and dark and sexy.
Things eventually started getting murky. Nothing felt like it had a point. Theater didn’t exist. Anger and fire were everywhere. The story felt frivolous and privileged. The words stopped coming.
But we aren’t there anymore. Not in that exact moment anyway. Even if that moment is still felt. The sun is out and people have emerged. Theaters are opening and their stories are full of timely heaviness that we are all too accustomed to anyway. I crave light, maybe other people do too.
So there you have it.
This was a good day. A lot of sunlight, a long morning walk on a forest path, a dip in the water, a magical winery that felt pulled out of Europe. So much bread. Oh god so much beautiful bread. And so much wine. So I’m a little tipsy hello.
I need to move my body more. It gives the anxiety a place to go. And being in the sun, being outside, it all feels so good. I felt like I was taking the light, the trees, the air, all of it into my body. And it all was going in and cleaning some of the stress and sadness off of my little heart.
Now I’m in bed and it’s cooler tonight. The windows are open and I can hear the waves outside. I wish it was always like this. Maybe it can be.
The sunset was stunning. You could see Venus. She sparkled.
Winter started to melt
Like it always does
And light started to seep into things
Like it always does.
Heavy meet light.
Yesterday the weather turned beautiful and stayed that way. Outside is vibrant blue and green. Bright everywhere. I attempted to buy weed, then had to work late, forgot what I was doing, and stood up the delivery person.
Sun-inspired life was blasting around me, but my body felt heavy and exhausted. I curled into my bed, meditated to vibrating tones that are supposed to be good for you, and fell asleep before 7:30.
There’s work to do. But it was my birthday, so I’m putting $65 candles into my Amazon cart and then deleting them.
Just write it out write write write.
Sneak out of your place and soak up some of that precious sweet light- let it fill and overflow you.
Life goes on around you and that flame pit in your stomach sparks sometimes. It can be enough to get you going or to hold you back staring blank-eyed at your own reflection and limp blonde hair and wondering if this is it? Would somebody notice if I ran out into the light, ran away?
And so you try it. You bring a notebook and stare out into the impossible blue, color that is so stupidly beautiful that surely it’s filling you up with something good too.