a strong suggestion, a willful stance, an insistence
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5/29/24
My cat is slinking away from me. I feel like I can smell the inside of the drawer on my shirt. My shirt is also pilling, it’s too short (cropped), and has a big drawing of a cat’s face on it. Underneath the cat it says lil shit in cursive.
The real lil shit, the slinker who just moved back into my sphere, had to get up on the table and smell the top of a box. The other cat loves the scent of chlorine, and as I peed with my bathing suit around my ankles she came around, inhaling the chemicals. The slinker just examined something on the floor and maybe gently lapped it into her mouth.
I know I’m going to change out of this shirt when I finish here. What I’m ‘finishing’ is just a basic writing practice, and as I sat down with my coffee I did wonder if I need to change up where I do this, mainly to change up my routine and rhythm, and because I am pretty out of practice I come to it kind of bashful, and also with a bit of resistance, and I want to just look around. The altar next to me hasn’t been given adequate attention lately. Oils, smoke. I want to create time and space to attend to it, and lately I haven’t created much space to do anything beyond the daily chores of life. I love being surrounded by all these books and I also love reading books downloaded to my kindle from the library—and this is just one part of the writing practice. I’ve created all this time and space for movement, but I haven’t created the same, truly, for writing. I’ve known for years that when I open up space, life—all the odds and ends—will fill it up unless you force it another way. Somehow I’ve convinced myself into leaving the house 3-4 times a week to hike or go to the pool. I want to apply that same sense of significance (again) to writing.
I’ve written some version of the above notebook entry hundreds of times in my journals over the years. I expect I will continue.
For now, I’m back to exerting a strong suggestion, a willful stance, an insistence.