Tuesday, December 6, 2016

remembering how to breathe, or when muscle memory fails

i've been writing a lot lately, in sporadic bursts of inspiration (sometimes induced by substances). writing about revelations of the past, what is the present for me, and how i want the future to look like (because you can speak/write your visions into existence). but, i've been mostly writing the same things over and over and over again lately too.

(i wonder if there is any merit in creative stuttering?) 

as a result, i'm trying to push myself to dig deep and into what i've been avoiding writing about. one diversion to this though is how i keep writing in the abstract -- which is what i'm doing right now (i think because the popular writing i see masterfully speaks in a broad, applicable to everyone way). moreover, i've let, for a long time, my voice shrink. it emerges every now and then, but it isn't what it was before. images used to freely spill from my mind to digital notepad and creased sheets of printer paper. now they sputter. (likely because my 'artsy' writing was determined to be 'upgradeable', that i shouldn't write with understanding of 'subject, verb, object'.)

nevertheless, i'm on a journey to: i. find the right words ii. recover my voice, and iii. share more stories than fragmented sentences.
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