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The Casual Ramble Aug 12, 2026
I can’t tell if I’m anxious or just excited anymore.
I was listening to a comedian the other night——Saturday night——after a day the waterfront claimed in an effort to procrastinate my planned evening activities.
The comedian——Emily Catalano——shared the observation that anxiety is just misplaced excitement. And at the point I couldn’t tell if I was anxious to depart for the party or excited to just stay the hell in bed.
I had an idea for a poem last night, one that pushed me into the mood to write.
But that push was too sudden, its force more like a shove & I was anxious soon enough; anxious that I couldn’t pull it off right.
This is normal for any creative; letting the perfect become the enemy of the good was an artistic expression long before it ever became a political one.
What is worrying is when it starts to creep out of my creative world. When it prevents me from engaging with the wider range of my interests because I haven’t “earned it.” That my quality of work, my quantity of production hasn’t met some quota I never even defined beforehand.
And so my books gather dust, my staves remain unburned & my turntable becomes a museum piece. My apartment transforms into a gravesite, complete with epitaph:
“Here lies the Casual Rambler; manuscript still incomplete.”
Fuck, I might not even be allowed to die. I already feel like I don’t allow myself to live. I am a ghost & my business is unfinished.
My priorities have become jumbled. The bingo strategy I picked up? I haven’t played in a month. At work, I just play for time as I steal away to write. At home, I just dawdle as I distract myself from what I would write.
Perhaps I’m not even a writer.
Perhaps just because I have ideas doesn’t meant they’re worth writing about.
Perhaps they’re not screaming to be let out, that’s just the sound of me, screaming at myself.
Or perhaps I have thought this all before. I have lived this life. [Editor’s note: many times over.] One where nothing was ever written & every idea was promptly ignored.
My report: the screams were worse. The ideas never ceased. And the nights were filled with tears for dreams. I was no longer a ghost.
I was a shade.
To go back would not just mean retreat. It would mean [that] I have betrayed myself. And after all that has happened in the past year, after all the joy & after all the pain, after all I have done & all that I still procrastinate, this cannot be my way.
The language we use with ourselves, I have been told, can predict how we behave. And whatever kindness & empathy we hold for others ought, by virtue, extend to ourselves all the same. How can I hold a branch showered in love if I have left my roots to wither away?
Yes, there must be boundaries. Yes, I must set myself to a standard. But the bark is for those who fail to respect them. Cut inside the trunk of a tree & you will find a wood neither harsh nor brittle, but supple & firm.
So you & I? We’re going to do the same.
We’re going to keep writing, giving ourselves rest when we need & forgetting the perfect as we let the ideas lead the way, fearing no mistakes.
And when we are done, we can be happy with what we wrote. For the writing is what is good, no matter the shape of the tree from the shoot. Thus, under the shade of this thought, we can make time to play bingo, to read, to play with our staves & listen to our records to boot.
Together, we can take our apprehensions in hand with our seeds. Take them out to the garden & plant them deep into soil & water them with care, each by each.
Together, we can forget if we’re anxious to be perfect or excited not to try. We are good enough to grow & bring our spirits back to life.
Fuck, I can’t tell if I was excited or anxious anymore; I was just ready to write.
–The Casual Rambler
Thanks again to all my patrons, including Jenny, Chloe, Carson, Roshi, Zero & Phil. This ramble kept growing more fun as I wrote it. I hope it grew as fun to read along with my internal monologue. I know I say this all the time, but I actually have made physical progress on Lyrics For a Song I Don’t Know. In an effort to continue the momentum, I will share what progress I have made & what was holding me up when I am finished with this next step: submitting it for publish.
The Casual Ramble 