You ever have those days where you get off to a late start with your errands and chores and other necessary parts of living, so you feel like you’re a step behind all day? And you manage to get most of the errands and other shit knocked out before it’s too too late, but by that time all the words in your head have built up and it feels like there’s some weird word pressure going on behind your eyeballs. And you know that if you don’t get that shit out of your head and onto some paper or a screen or some kind of recording mechanism soon, it’s going to rupture something in your brain, maybe knock some vital connection loose, and then you don’t know what will happen, but it’ll probably involve the windshields of all those damn cars that keep parking on the wrong side of your street and a baseball bat, so you try to get through everything else as fast as you can so you can get the damn story out of your head before it dies and festers in your imagination like a raccoon trapped behind the wall of your porch in high summer, poisoning and stinking up the air around it, but you can’t seem to find the time to finish up everything else and just get to it, so the story just keeps scratching at the inside of your skull, trying to tunnel its way into the world, driving you crazy with its sharp little claws and slowing you down even more…
Yeah. I’m having one of those days.
I swear to God, sometimes I think I write less because I enjoy it and more because I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t.
So I’m going to go write now. Just to be on the safe side.