Doing homework on a sunny Sunday afternoon sucks donkey ass
Sunday, March 3, 2002 - 14:44

I guess it's just human nature to want to record things, because when you die your memories die with you, while if you've written them down, they survive.

But most of the time, I don't write these things down. They don't disappear; they stay in my head. While I'm experiencing something I'm often composing in my head, but I rarely capture those words and write them down.

But even if I did write them down, they couldn't adequately describe the event.

This is what I was thinking last week, coming home late at night with the car window down, the warm wind blowing on my face, the smell of growing things on the air, the croaking of the frogs echoing around me. I knew that I could never describe it the right way. I knew that I wouldn't be able to express the feelings and memories that I had at that moment. Softball games and late summer nights, even though it's early spring here. The seasons here are confused.

So anyway.

I've lately been feeling my biological writer's clock ticking away. I always thought I'd write a book. I think everyone thinks that. But only a few people actually end up writing a book.

I've always sort of assumed that this book I'd eventually write would somehow write itself. Oddly enough, it hasn't. Now that I'm on my way to being 50 years old, I've suddenly realized that if I want to write a book, I'm going to have to *write* it.

And that sucks. Because I'm really lazy.

But I have been composing in my head. A few different stories, actually. But I wonder if I'll ever capture those stories and actually write them down.