i started this thing, writing for 31 days in a row, which makes no sense to me if it does not come from the heart, i told myself, but then i realized, that if every writer put that kind of demand on themselves, would we have books? would good books be written?
who can live and write from the heart 24/7?
so it is a good thing that i am writing for 31 days and that on day 2 i got to figure this out right away, that writing from the heart 24/7 may not happen
speaking of heart
my heart has been open, and heavy and closed and open wide to be hurt over and over again and it has been closed tight shut like an old metal vault to a bank … you know, the kind you see in the basements of old banks
i just made that up because it sounds good, maybe something a real writer would say or write
teddy is here with me upstairs, looking down, down, down, and out the window to the street below
i think that he is looking for cars on the street, which rarely drive by where i live
he looks out the window for things to move, but nothing moves, except maybe a fir tree needle in the small and slight breeze if you look quickly before you blink
unedited, raw writing, this is
let’s put it out there online for the world to read and to see, shall we?
i just edited, so forget the unedited raw writing. spelling mistakes, i cannot put online
unedited, raw writing, this is (not)
i am writing around my heart
breast cancer has been my constant companion lately, but she has been the kind of friend you really do not want to have
scattered smorgasbord
love that
my mind, my life right now, a scattered smorgasbord, rich with flavours and colours and textures and wide open to possibilities and to my future
a future that will be different
very very different soon
i know it. i feel it, i know.
– brenda johima
thursday october 2nd 4:40 p.m. 2014
