There’s much I haven’t figured out, that seven sequential days of posting haven’t laid open.
Ex: the ‘writing on vacay’ dilemma remains… BUT
making a point of posting each day put a crack in something I didn’t know had a shell. Daily posting has value for me at this time. I’m picking it back up. For… the rest of this month, let’s say. We’ll check back in then.
Ex: the total absence of connection between posting and being read continues… BUT
I did ask for what I wanted in a couple of places. It is disheartening to hear one’s life partner respond, “Oh, I didn’t think I could read that. I thought it was private.” Dearest, I mentioned it on Facebook. Similarly disheartening to hear friends say, “Oh, right — I meant to take a look at that!” That, at least, I expected. It’s a crowded landscape.
Ex: the tension between using daily prompts (so stilted!) and waiting on inspiration (so sporadic!) leaves me irritated… BUT
the ‘joy’ of daily posting will be its own exploration of how this poet could be able to roll.
When I turned 45, I went to my God “[..]at ten before dinner-time, saying, ‘Make me different from all other animals; make me popular and wonderfully run after by five this afternoon.’” Or in my case, “by age 50.” It struck me last week that I, like Kangaroo, may be complaining that my legs ache. When the better choice might be to quit fussing and keep moving.