Friday, October 12, 2012

but the hair helps me grip my pencil

Okay, daily practice.  It makes me think of robed monks walking through an Alpine garden collecting their herbs for some spirit recipe from the Dark Ages.  Or suburban women in short white skirts with their sweaty and hairy forearmed tennis coach swinging rackets and missing balls.

I don't do anything everyday except wake up.  And now I'm trying to improve my ability to create and generate ideas by writing.  Daily.

Look.  The only thing I've ever practiced every day was masturbation, and that was when I was a teenager.  I'm much older now and I've perfected the technique like a professional janitor who mops the floors in a skyscraper in a single night. 

So why can't I sit down and look at a piece of paper and take the pen in my hand every morning or evening without finding some menial task to deny myself the practice I deserve?  It would seem that a hairy palm would only create a tighter grip on your writing instrument, right?


Failure?  Fear?  The need to impress others?  The EGO asking 'Why are you doing this?'



Back when I was listening to music on the little AM radio station in my parent's kitchen (which I remember was pre-formica and I wonder to this day exactly what the cabinets were made out of...stone?  wood?), back then I was considered a bright little kid.  You know in the days before every child got a trophy just because they participated.

When I was a child, when you got the blue ribbon, you WERE the one and only winner.  I remember quite a few of those when it came to writing, art and bowling.

But when you get older they stop handing out those blue ribbons and gold stars, right?  And they don't explain that to you.  So the little kid in you has to get the reward from adult things, like keeping up with the laundry, having a nice yard or scoring good credit. 

I read an article recently by an author who said that she finds when she has a little reward waiting for her at the end of her scheduled writing assignment, like chocolate or a foot massage, it keeps her focused on the task at hand.

That's sweet, but it won't fly with me!  I know I can walk into any gas station and buy chocolate and in certain strip mall combos I can buy that massage and a good bowl of PHO in the same building.  NO, I reject that.

I'll take Blue Ribbons and Gold Stars any day of the week.  Now, you'll have to excuse me while I shave my palms or find a suitable two birds on a stick barrette to pin this curly hair back.

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