Casual rambles, short stories and poetry done casually
On Tuesday last week, I went to the March 4 Democracy protest. It started at noon, but I was writing until four in the morning before the protest. The second reason was because I wanted to take my time walking to the demonstration. I took so many that I was up till six the next […]
It was a devious ploy. A salty intrigue. But alas, it ended as it only could have: me having to get off my fat arse and doing something.
Well, I nearly though this wouldn’t happen. I looked over all of my poems and thought to myself: “god damn, these are all crap.”
I did not start writing this blog post until 4AM in the morning. Apologies if I’m a bit wistful about times long past.
I read books funny. What I mean is that my way of reading books is funny. And what I mean by that is my rhythm of reading is just downright absurd. That includes how I finished up “Stay True” by Hua Hsu.
Well, it’s been a while since we’ve talked about the Portland Trail Blazers.
I have been writing non-stop for eight hours, guys. EIGHT HOURS. Some poetry over there. A post over there. Another post over there. And this post here, all about writing poetry, the limits I’ve found in myself, and what I’m going to do to surpass them.
I rarely write blogs like open letters because I find it unnatural, but in this case, there seemed no other way.
I spent most Monday doing a whole bunch of things. Writing was not one of them. I had nothing. I was empty.
You may have noticed I didn’t publish much last week. It’s not that I haven’t been writing—I’ve been writing a lot—it’s that I needed a moment to reflect on the art of blogging every day a little deeper.
The Casual Ramble 