Early morning. Time to get started. Big day. It needs to be a big day. I need to find my way through all the broken hours of sleep and all the fatigue, and finally wake up to the morning.

It is yet to be six, and it is closer to five. Soon it will be closer to six, however. And I have to wonder as to why I’m awake. It’s not to be productive, but there will be productivity. At least, I hope there will be productivity.

So sitting in a dark room, shutters closed, lights on. Sitting here trying to pick up from where I left off. Going to do a rather ridiculous amount of writing today. Going to get it all done, all tidied up, and then I’m running free. Or something. Might not be. Have plans, have ideas, they will be thrown away like all good ideas and plans are. But we’ll see what happens.

So I’m just trying to warm up right now and I’m trying to shake out all the mess of words that currently flood my head. Mainly I want to write about how close to the end I am, but I don’t want to do that at the same time. Finality has its time and place, and its price, and I’m not willing to pay right now. That can come later.

So today is going to be a productive day. So what? Who cares? Other than me and the other people who care? No one, of course. And I’m already running on fumes. Running on empty. Or not, as actually I’m being quite aware of the time as I need to leave and head off soon. There are things I’m taking care of this morning and I really want to take care of them. Then I need to come back and take care of other stuff. And then I lock down and just hammer our words upon words, and I do that between everything, too. But today is the start of an intense week of just producing words upon words, and getting it all done. And then I have next week, too. It’ll not be fun, but I’ve set out to do it and it’ll be interesting to see if I can actually do it. Good prep and all that.

And then what? Where do I go from there? Weeks of words, weeks of mess. Weeks of thoughts spinning in and out of frame, finding their viewpoint, finding their position. All coming together in an image that doesn’t look good, but makes sense.

Why did I decided to do this now? I have so many other things that I could be doing.

It’s now closer to six than it is five and I’m needing to get ready. Also needing to go to the bathroom. I can hear a little bit of bird outside and that’s a nice way to get into the swing of things. That’s a nice way to feel that the morning is here, and the morning is here so I need to start getting ready and get into it all. Need to leave soon. The sun is rising and I want to be able to get a glimpse of that. See it come up and poke its head through the dark, though the dark will be gone by that point so what does it matter anyway? It’s gonna look nice regardless.

I’ve a few things to get through and I’ve already said this so why am I saying it again? The only thing I should be concerning myself with at the moment is going forward into the tomorrow of today and going for a long walk that will lead to sore legs, but it will be worth it. It always is. And then I get to the other stuff and… maybe I shouldn’t me writing on a lack of sleep.

Feeling tired, feeling it all, feeling nothing, but at least I’ve got Pearl Jam playing. I’ve got music going and I’m in a good position in life. I’m here, I’m ready, and I’m ready to get on with the getting on. I’m ready to find my way and find my way through a busy and intense day. There will be things happening and I won’t be able to enjoy them as I need to lock down, and I will be locking down on all of the words.

Alright, I think the reason why I’m writing this crap right now is just to warm up. But I can feel my cranium rattling, but what’s in there is not an idea, but rather a a bit of trash that is having difficulty getting out of there, so I rattle some more. I rattle and rattle and I rattle some more, and I shake and shimmy and some other things that will help me pad this out so I can get to the target, and then it doesn’t come out and I’m left here wondering as to what I can do about the whole thing. The only thing I can do, I guess, is not look at the keyboard and type away which is what I’m currently doing, and now I’m looking again and this really is the pits. This really is the lowest of the low.

I’m hurting language. I’m damaging words. I’m causing irreparable harm to the eyes and that’s the way I don’t like it. I’m still listening to Pearl Jam and now I’m thinking “Alright gents, you can stop now”, but it’s me who has the power to stop them from playing. All I have to do is switch the music off and then that will be done. That will be that. I still let it play, however, as I enjoy it, but right now is not the best time. Right now could be a better time, but I’ve left one song on repeat and so I’m just hurting myself now and I’ll keep hurting myself until I stop.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 11:40:08

Fun to write, but just trash.

Written at home.