Midnight Cowboy

I don’t know if I’ve ever had writers block

Writing has always been “easy” for me

Like Hemingway said

Just sit down and bleed

I guess what I have 

Could be called

Writer’s “Don’t want to”

I don’t want to write

But I also must

It’s an annoying 

Irony?

Dichotomy?

Compulsion?

It’s annoying

The girls were pretty good today

Glory was in a great mood

We played chase and peek a boo

Flipped through EVERY book in the house

Athena “had a nose”

No real fever

And she lied to me about cleaning up her toys

So she could get into the bath early

Astonishingly

It’s the first time I have ever caught her in a non-truth

Oh man

It got to me

I took the toys she hadn’t put up 

“Away for a couple of days”

I explained to her calmly

But with obvious pain

And maybe some long denied political ambition

About decency and trust

Honesty and character

Integrity goddamnit

It may have been a bit much for a three year old

I don't know

It's my first time

I put her and her sister in bed

My spaghetti was cold by that then

Which was fine

I don’t mind things being cold

Glory has taken to falling asleep with a blanket over her face

Because I don’t have enough problems

The wine I bought at Costco is superb

My playlist is dope

So I sit down to write

The problem with good writing

In my humble opinion

Is that it has to be personal

It has to have guts

Or it’s just your journal entry

There has to be form and art and 

Blah blah blah

There must be guts

I’m not sure if I have guts to spare at the moment

While I tried to write that last bit

I had to go take Glory’s blanket off her face

Athena who lied

And her stuffy nose

Wanted to come say she was sorry

And get a hug

And request cereal to make her nose feel better

So now

I’m eating cold spaghetti

She’s slurping the Almond milk 

Out of her cereal bowl

Daddy is playing a show

I have so much that is personal

That needs to bleed

But not yet

Maybe 

It just needs to cool

Athena says

While my favorite Charles Bradley plays

“I don’t want to hear that. Athena don’t like this song.”

I tell her it’s one of the greatest songs in the world

Because it is

“No. It’s weird. It’s a damn problem.”

She usually has better taste in music

But we both laugh at her candor

Put her snuffly nose to bed

I wonder 

As I write

Before I do laundry 

If the mother I follow on instagram

Who’s daughter is recovering

Hopefully

From a deadly illness

Ever cares about cold spaghetti 

I wish I could take her some

I deleted my last post

Because it was too personal

And because I talked about being fat

Which I’m not

So fuck off

Someone I love is ill

Very seriously ill

I’m not handling it as well as I would like

Considering the practice I’ve had

Soon I will have to face it

Like cold water to the face

I’m reading a lot of Brennan Manning

 Sir Authur Conan Doyle

Listening to a lot

Of Leroy Powell

Both musically 

And just whatever he says to me with his damn beautiful face

When he hands me coffee in the morning time

When I think about how I love him

I get tears

And a knot in the back of my throat 

Check to make sure

Glory has moved her blanket

Writing in my journal

To you