Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

Apologies for not writing more often. I’m in stasis. I’m apathetic. My mind is preoccupied. Words don’t flow the way they have in the past.

Too Punk Rock...

As you know, NaNoWriMo is approaching. The people I don’t hear from all year round pour onto my feed reminding me of this fate. Every year, they convince me to take a swing. Every year, I quit within a week. I’ll make an attempt to stick with it this year. However, with my mind everywhere but on writing, I don’t know how great this attempt will be.

As I have not been pouring my life onto the blog, I picked up my journal. I jotted a few thoughts in it. There is hope that this will become its own project. A lyric essay that I planned to make into a blog earlier this month. I have divorced myself from that thought and the working title in general.

There are a few things I wish I could write in this post. I backspaced everything mentioning her. Because I know she’s reading this. I wonder if you read the words I wrote about you before I removed the post. This was months ago. Before you decided to reveal that you’re still around. Just know I’ve published your comments before I made this post.

I won’t live in the past. Or in your words. Those aren’t a home I’d like to dwell in.

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