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on this tuesday
Things change. They changed before you realized they had, and by the time you figured it out, there was just too much forward motion, and the brakes were shot. Things may change again, but: perhaps not back, perhaps into something truer.
In the meantime, perhaps you will write more. This is an effort worthy of far more attention than you have given it, distracted as you have been by the pleasantries of, well, just being distracted. Those pleasantries aren’t going anywhere. You should remind yourself of this now and then, and get back to the business of doing what it is that makes you who you are. Do it often, do it fervently, do it for as long as you can. Just in case one day it won’t be yours any more to do. Just in case it dries up. Get yours while the getting’s good, so to speak.
On the second day of a quiet house, the second of two days spent in the sweatpants you wear when you are sick (and almost never else), these are the thoughts that spin around inside your head. They haven’t taken quite yet — you haven’t spent any of this unexpected free time composing your thoughts, or even collecting them, really, except for this modest effort, right here, right this second — but they will, if you remember what you’re supposed to be doing, and more to the point, why you’re supposed to be doing it.
P.S. You’re kind of an asshole for writing this and then going right back to said distractions.
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