A brief yarn in 6 mini vignettes to get my head right.
Migraine. What is this…six days in a row now or seven? Whatever it is, it’s a week. Would it be a week if its six days (since I’d come full circle) and thus seven days would be a week and a day? Is that fuzzy logic? Is that bad math? Math escapes me when I feel like I have a hangover for no reason and my stomach’s full of cement. Technically my stomach is full of a mango chutney pork sandwich…the girl at the counter called it “chew-ta-nee,” and why not? You chew it don’t you? Like cud.
Beige. I’ve come to realize that the color I come into contact with the most in life is beige. Maybe its eggshell or off-white sometimes but I think my brain just processes it as beige. Beige is good for migraines. Fuchsia and turquoise are good for walks down memory lane into the 90’s when I’d wear my shoes loose, then pump them up to play basketball in the gymnasium after lunch hour. Nobody’s collecting the Nikes from that time period.
Hiccups. Seriously? I’m trying to drink water here to combat the migraine and it went down the wrong pipe. They’re about 3 seconds apart but every time I pause to time them on my watch they go away. Here…watch. Okay that was a minute. I know for you it was a second but for me it was a minute…I think they’re gone now. Good. They tasted like chew-ta-nee.
Migraine. The only thing that makes these things go away is sleep which I’m not getting a ton of these days but I really shouldn’t complain. My kids are awesome, my wife loves me, I have a great job, and I get to write in my free time. Sure, I’m not writing as much as I used to when I worked from home but then again, some would say “work” was a strong word for wearing pajamas all day and writing…from home. I have writers block right now. And hiccups…they just came back. <pause> That was another minute…watching my watch seems to be working. Good trick.
Beige. I have a short film script I started that I really like but it is just missing that last little touch to be ready for finishing. Everyone keeps asking to read it because I was talking about it a few weeks ago and now it feels like a dirty old teddy bear sitting on the shelf with all its magic hugged and gone. Its my own fault. I thought of a short story in the shower recently that I want to write and it takes place a decade before the script’s timeline, so the script is trapped in time till I either write the short story or buckle down and edit the script. If I had to give my short story a color to describe it I’d say it’s “vibrant beige.” Friggin’ hiccups! Now they’re aggravating my migraine. It doesn’t help that its 80 degrees in my office and the thermostat is two offices down the hall. I feel like I’m hiccuping my way to hell. Screw the watch trick.
Hiccups. I thought I’d have this script done by now – at one point I thought it was done – but writing time doesn’t factor in life time. Putting the words to the paper is never the issue…its finding the time and motivation to put the words to the paper. They rattle around in my head haphazardly then suddenly there they all are, in the foreground, just waiting for my clunky fingers to assemble them into cohesive thought. They come to me in meetings, on phone calls, and other situations where I cannot pause and jot them down. When I do jot them down they seem to lose their meaning when I read them back to myself later. “Turquoise Nikes on the basketball court.” That was a coherent thought this morning that I couldn’t wait to write down and now its just a hiccup. I sound like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. “I moving to Australia.” That’s actually a good thing, I can’t write if all I hear is my own voice in my head. I have to hear my character’s voice(s). I have to get out of my grind and get into theirs. I have to…hey…my hiccups are gone. I guess I just needed to stop thinking about them for a while and let them run their course.
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