Monday, November 1, 2010


It is sleep I feel calling to me, however if I am to be a writer, I must shake off the calls to other places. I believe a writer writes daily. Usually nothing significant, such as this post and all my previous. Who knows where these thoughts may lie one day...slipped into a character's inner thoughts, a line in poem...or even sillier: dialogue in a play.
Choices, require decisions. Demands, already chosen by someone else. Isn't it funny in some cirumstances, we only want demands. We relinquish freedom of choice out of laziness.
Today I chose to write.


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