Practice

I'm writing to keep in practice, not because I have anything of worth to say. It's something to do. It's something that's hard to do, keeping in practice. Particularly when I find myself running around so often. Between my work with Clockwork Chaos Publishing my play with Meat and Potato Theatre I'm really quite exhausted and busy. Add to that my complicated emotional state and the loss of my job and well... I'm surprised I honestly get anything done at all.

But you sort of half too. Writers write. It's sort of inherent to the nature of the word itself. So I'm trying to keep it up. Throw a few hundred words onto the internet when I can find a few moments. Because it's something to do. Keeps the machinery of authorship moving. So that hopefully when I actually have something worth saying that I'll be able to slide it quickly instead of hammering on the inside of my skull till the broken bits falls out.

That is apparently what's happening today.

The shards of thoughts and feelings spilling out because I'm hammering away. I find myself being overly honest lately. It seems to be causing more problems than I currently am able to deal with. Though I avoid dishonesty in all but the most necessary of circumstances there comes a point when you're too honest. When you're honest to the point of straining or outright destroying important relationships. Regardless of wether they should be that important.

But I'm stumbling far too close to things I'm not ready to talk about. Things better left unsaid.

So there it is for the day.