It is Sunday. And currently, the temperature is a 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Scattered clouds dot the blue sunny sky. Not much to say and not much to do. This blog post is not anything coherent. It is only an exercise in writing.
Writing, like almost anything else, takes practice. And practice makes perfect. One does not wake up immediately able to write the next great masterpiece. Or write prose as elegant and sincere as Mark Twain or Hunter S. Thompson. Work is the key to excellent writing. And I have much work to do after so much time lost.
I read one helpful tidbit somewhere once. Somewhere during an endless search for understanding. The act of listening to the same song over and over again is thought to be helpful to maintain one’s focus. At this very moment, I am doing that. I am listening to the same song on repeat to see what will come of it. If anything will come of it. Who knows?
During the week I sat down and wrote a list of potential things I could write with my return to blogging. At one point I had some political blogs I wanted to write. Considering the current political climate we are in I will more than likely write something political. Or maybe not. Maybe yes. And then again, maybe not. And then at another point, I wanted to write a tech-focused blog post. After all, I do think myself as someone who is somewhat tech-savvy.
But this is what my fingers have ended up typing. This is what is coming out of my head. At this very moment. It is an exercise. An exercise in writing.
I should be in a cafe sipping coffee with some kick-ass headphones over my ears while blogging. Maybe wearing a grey flannel jacket. I saw one recently on the J.Crew website that I think I will one day purchase. For now, it shall remain on my Amazon Wish list. Along with a number of other material things that I do not need but seem to want so bad. So much more than I should. Instead of writing in a cafe I am sitting in my kitchen at my kitchen table writing to the same repetitive piano song. Writing is not about where you write. Writing is about fucking writing.
This is an exercise. An exercise in writing.