It has been said to write what you know. I take this to mean ‘to describe’. So I describe.
Sometimes when I write and describe, it has to do with my childhood, but that makes me feel self-conscious, which to me is like a drink of sour milk or the smell of dog breath. Other times when I write, I break down what I know about a modern moment of my life. I see it as counter balance to all that dreaded history that vomits up like flowers and nails.
I know that I love to listen to music in headphones while I write. I like music loud. I may be sacrificing my hearing in my future old age self.
Practice determination to put yourself out in the world. I write and keep this nonsense Blog to make myself work for what I want and keep on thinking, what’s life if not to live and enjoy every goddamn moment of it. I love to compose words, so I write.
(The child in me wants affirmation though, but I won’t give in to her tonight.)
Write what I know.
I know I am worried about my dog Tucker, who is as sweet as can be all the time. The sweetest dog on earth, seriously. She is eleven or twelve already and I can tell something is bothering her. With sad eyes lately, she seems slower and in pain sometimes. I’m taking her to the vet tomorrow.
I know that I’m wearing sock that feel like thin and cheap crap. I must have purchased them from Target. I wish nice socks weren’t such an expensive item. It is a small bit of pleasure to have expensive socks that cushion and hug on your feet.
I know that I’ve recently started chilling my pint glasses and drinking beer out of them with a beer koozie. A little class and trash. That’s how I like everything, really.
I know too many ‘I’s’ in a piece of writing is terribly vain and unprofessional. Sorry for that.