Out of my Head

Get ready for ten minutes of thought-babble...

I don't write all that much here, you may have noticed. Lots of short bits, with a rare introspective thought or observation thrown in. Why? I was wondering about that, and...I dunno. Lots of it has to do with my belief that if I'm writing, then I should be WRITING. Writing screenplays. Getting the hundreds of thoughts and ideas and characters I've got in my head down on paper. Doing something worthwhile, something I can eventually be making a living off of.

Like most of my beliefs, this was adjusts regularly, and I'll find myself needing to write something, ANYTHING, just for the sake of writing. "Half-Hour Fiction"(which, yes, I plan to do more of), for one example. Posts like this, for another. Writing is like exercising: it's good to do it, for no matter how long, as regularly as you can, just to keep those muscles fit and loose.

I was walking in the DUMBO section of Brooklyn (Down Under Manhattan Bridge Overpass, that is) on Sunday with my fianc馥 (still feels weird calling her that), and I said in passing that I was surprised that we aren't hipper than we are. Hipsters, to be more precise. I mean, two intelligent, highly artistic types living together in Brooklyn, I feel sometimes like we should be wearing flea market clothes and going to poetry slams and covering our walls with paint. But then I come back to my senses. I like my walls with obscure movie posters and old maps. I like my jeans and sweaters. My lady (that sounds better, I think), looks good just as it is. We don't need dredlocks and art supplies. We're fine just as we are.

And there's my ten minutes.

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This page contains a single entry by published on January 8, 2003 11:02 PM.

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