Maybe it’s April in Academia. Maybe there is something else within me trying to parse this answer.
I can’t shake the fact that my writing is suffering of late. Because I haven’t been doing the thing that I am supposed to be doing. Which is, of course, writing.
There is only one way into this world. Consistent. Persistent.
No way around it. I know this, and yet I am consistently pushed away from it. Obligations that are not of my making but are of my choosing.
And I think about this.
And what I am not doing.
