Caught in the grind

Journal bits

I’m trying to work through the disconnect I have with writing. A disconnect i’ve had since struggling to leave my fat self.

In this space (today 11.17.21), my thoughts are intermingled between what i’ve come to understand to be my present voice (something which is tight and tweetish), versus my old writing voice. I admit that having a voice in writing is tricky. It is like a muscle you build. The stronger the voice, the more you build a box around how you express those thoughts.

The other thing that is in my mind is my inability to find a way to think, muse on paper, convert said thoughts to the digital realm, then check in, revise and ultimately publish.

“How many garbage words do you spew out before you find your rhythm again?

How long can you have a writers drought”

When I write on the computer my voice and sensibility call back to the old days. My fingers and eyes know what they want to see. This is like being an over the hill rocker, sitting with a over the hill producer, and trying to brainstorm a hit that has the charm of past glory. I spent so many years writing at KungFu, writing a certain way. Any writing other than just a initial thought is very much overcast with this filter, this style that panders to an audience that isn’t there anymore. An audience that isn’t there, of which I am one of those people not there.

When I write by hand it is usually small notes, left behind, to caution me.

Recently I went through the dashboard of my car and found a note to myself “I’m caught up in the grid”. Jesus… Thanks, Paul. It is true though, I’m in the grind. I’m always in the grind, so much so that I don’t even notice it. When I do finally catch wind of my toil, my surroundings seem foreign, look different. I no longer feel like I’m in control, I’m in the captains chair, but the computer is flying.