So I remember when I was in the classroom, (something I’m missing at the moment, btw) writing with my students, and there would be days when we’d come in and as soon as the bell would ring (or I guess it was more like buzz) we’d all take out paper and just do a Wild Mind, Natalie Goldberg 7 and a half minute freewrite where we’d pour, literally, everything that was in our brains out through our arms and fingers and pens and pencils onto the page as fast as we could, without ever stopping, just writing “I have nothing to write about, I have nothing to write about” if that was what was in our brains and eventually, that wasn’t what was in our brains and we moved on to whatever it was, like the traffic officer at San Francisco airport earlier, this gentle looking older woman somewhere between 55-70 who almost duked it out with a insolent cab driver who parked right in the crosswalk and didn’t answer when she threatened him with a $350 ticket and almost drove over her foot as he left, watching her in the rearview mirror as she wrote down his license plate, shaking her head back and forth, or how the baby three rows back on the plane who wouldn’t stop crying reminded me of Tess when she was like six months old and the nice stewardess who offered to hold her for a few minutes only to have her launch a stream of vomit all over her new, dark blue dress with the gold buttons, or this hotel room which is nice enough, or this workshop tomorrow where I get to meet some of the people who are making me think the hardest, all the while wondering when these silly seven and a half minutes will be over and why it’s so hard to blog sometimes (like now, like these last few weeks) even though it’s such an ingrained, rooted, deep-seated habit that I find almost as hard not to do as it is to do, and thinking that this is a really stupid blog post that no one will want to read and not really caring because every now and then I just have to open up a vein and let it all run out, whatever it is, however stupid, however meaningless or trite because this is where I write these days, not on paper, not on a typewriter, not in a word processor (which is so different from a food processor) and I have one minute left and I’m thinking I’m going to have to post something else really fast so this doesn’t stay on the top of my blog for very long so that not so many people will read it until I remember that damned, dreaded RSS feed that’s gonna shoot this sucker out the moment I post it, after, of course I go to Flickr and try to find a suitable image that is Creative Commons licensed and finally, the buzzer on my iPhone just went off.

Move along now…nothing to see here.

(“Golden Gate, by Moonlight [1]” by MumbleyJoe)

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