Alright I’m about to tear through a bunch of things. Well, one more thing, but I’m gonna tear through the day. I’m gonna tear through the day and some writing, and then I’m gonna get on with the getting on.

The sun is shining through a window, and it’s shining in a way that creates a firm line that doesn’t reach as far as perhaps it should. However, it is pleasant. It is nice. It is pleasant and nice. It contrasts with the shade around it, and the shade caused by the light in here. Probably inaccurate to say, but I think it gets across the idea.

I’m sitting here, waiting for work to begin. Waiting to start the day and get on with the getting on. Waiting for something to happen; to break the sound and silence. To cut into the stillness of the bitter music I’m listening to. Music still hurts, but it means something. It says something and it wraps around my head and whips my ears, even in its calm moments, for calm music can be just as violent and affective as violent music. This is, of course, a different kind of violence; it’s the violence of the heart, and what can be teased out in moments of softness, but this music cuts and it cuts deep, and sometimes that’s the best kind. You hope it’s the best kind, anyway. Maybe it isn’t, but right now that doesn’t matter. What does is that it’s saying something still.

A while ago I felt the desire to write about music come back to me, but the desire to write wasn’t there. I don’t know if that makes sense. I wanted to write, but I also didn’t. Actually pretty simple stuff, now that I think about it. Anyway…

But I felt it and then there was something that made me believe in music again. I’ve written a lot of words about music, and it’s mostly crap, but it was worth writing about then and it is worth writing about now. I know I said this, but I’ve that desire coming back, I think. There’s an itch, and whilst delayed, I’ve started editing again this morning. Chipping away at my pain to create something that still might hurt, but hopefully says something about music. Says something about a relationship with music. You hope you say something meaningful sometimes.

I think that I’m a bit hesitant. It hasn’t been too long since the last essay I published, but what if I don’t say anything worthwhile? What if I don’t have it in me anymore? Silly questions to ask, but questions I ask nonetheless. Concerns and anxieties are likely always going to be with me, but I still should bow to my ego and publish work I believe in. Let the uncertainties have their say, work out if they are saying anything worthwhile, and then move on. Get on with the getting on, push on through. Just keep on writing and improving.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:45:06

Written before work and shared during lunch.

Some more stuff I’m happy about, but only because it was going somewhere toward the end.

Written at work.