While you might argue that there is no discernible schedule that I live by, there used to be rhythms. A time and a place for everything and space between things into which I could fit a blog post. I upended everything for stability and stability is what I got. I just didn’t make much allowance in my planning for what all it was going to cost me.
So I’m finding new rhythms. No, finding is a bit of an overstatement. I am trying out new rhythms. New ways of writing, new ways of fitting it all in. I’m not there yet. The fantasy I had of this writing room that now belongs to me, the chair exactly where it is right now… in this fantasy, I wasn’t so determined to make my own food and not rely on the cafeteria and Annie’s southwestern bean burritos. This stuff takes *time* and I can no longer make up for that time by blogging in the down time.
Incidentally, watching my washing machine is better than watching TV. LG front-loader with LED lights to expose the inner workings of agitation. There’s got to be a poem in there somewhere, but I’m struggling to get to the prose. Gotta leave the poetry alone.
Finding new rhythms. Carving them out of concrete when required. I’ll get back on track. I have the best of intentions…