Its been at least a week since I wrote a story on Cowbird and I feel the urge to write something creeping up on me. Its like when I was a kid and I'd sit in the corner of our dining room, where it was quiet, with a notebook and a pencil (a pencil!) and write just to write. The stories didn't make sense. The songs were bad. The poems, worse. But I had to get them out.
Lately that has been happening a lot. This urge to get it out. All of it. But I'm not sure I'm quite ready. So I keep sending emails, starting new projects, writing grants, tweeting, anything to try and satisfy this urge to really say what I think I need to say.
This crazy dream I had last night (no one likes a sentence that starts that way!) really drove me crazy. Its still in my head...the people, the story, the confusion, the overwhelming emotion.
So I felt like it was a good time for a Cowbird. This is definitely not an interesting story. Not profound or insightful or inspiring. But I'm glad I got a little bit out.
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