I tried to start writing early today but it didn’t work out. I’m tired in a way where nothing feels urgent. Bone weary maybe? Listening to the rain pour down outside. And the ceiling fan spin and creak.
The car didn’t start today. It might be because my key is worn out. The connection is not being made. Things wear down and break. Ha! I’m writing like one of those bleak stories that I hate.
Tomorrow is the start of the big road trip. I hope to document it well.
Today’s reading
Poem: Nature, Which Cannot Be Driven To by Diane Seuss 2022?
Essay:The Vanishing Point by Verlyn Klinkenborg 2010
Short Story: Pigs is Pigs by Ellis Parker Butler 1905
I really enjoyed this part of the poem. It reminded me of how the 10,000 steps a day goal is completely arbitrary. It’s a good reminder that it is ok to just exist sometimes.
Leave a Reply