It must be getting close to another change in the seasons...its a little darker every morning now, and I'm starting to feel the gypsy wanderlust, before the wind shifts. I love Autumn. It's without a doubt my favorite time of year. Summer is too hot and Winter is too cold, and Spring is too wet, but Autumn, when we're lucky, is glorious. Hoodies and sweaters, warm days and cool nights with the windows open. Yes, even in the city because I'm on the third floor.
This summer I got nothing done that I wanted to. I didn't start writing again...yet. Although I do have an idea now that I think I just have to start before I'm going to see it's real purpose. I don't know if I can write it without the story in my head first, but maybe I can. We will see what kind of crap I spit up on to the blank page later today.
As I flip through my Facebook friends it also seems like everyone is losing weight and I'm not. And I wanted to. I planned it over cookies and wine. I thought about it over ice cream and rum. At least I know where my calories are coming from. My clothes aren't tight yet, but as John Bender in the Breakfast Club would say, "Well, not at present but I could see you really pushing maximum density." Yes I'm being hard on myself but I am not liking what I see in pictures so its past time to do something. Just gotta finish this ice cream in my freezer first. And drink all this rum. In one respect I guess since all writers are drunks, might be a good combination for starting this new play.
What is it about Summer that makes me so lazy? Is it just the heat? Or is it the heat coupled with my very thin wallet? It's very difficult to have a good time in the Summer in a city like Chicago. Pretty much everything is expensive and the parks are, well, lets just say they are not like really being outside in the woods. Not like the Great White North of Wisconsin. And public transportation can't even get me to Six Flags. So it's not gonna get me to a real woody area. I think I miss hikking in Hixon Park the most. So many good memories there with myself and my thoughts. Some even with Mr. Hopeful or She of Little Combat Boots. I wish Chicago had mountains close by like Colorado Springs did. Then I might be able to find some much needed nature. I will have to go on an adventure soon and find some or I might go into hermit city mode and never leave my studio other than to work. That would not be the best idea, unless of course I'm writing. You know what this is? All this lamenting nature is just another excuse and distraction to actually writing. And between us, I think that's what my soul really needs right now. To write.
But what to write? Should I finally finish the last draft of the fantasy novel that has been shelved for over two years now? Or should I get this play pounded out? My muse nods beside me when I mention the play. Wow I haven't seen her in a long time. She looks like me circa 1994, only with much cooler hair, and all the Stevie Nicks stuff I've been able to collect since then. Well not all of it. LOL but a great deal. So somewhere between Death in Sandman and Stevie in the 70's. Oh and she has wings. My muse is a fairy. And she changes heights depending on how serious she is to be heard. For a years she's been about the size of my Iphone. Now she's my size so I think I should try to write today. No one likes a giant fairy sitting on their bed, eating their cookies, and judging her wine choices.
I better go before she eats all the lemon poppy seed cake too.