On a break, hearing the sounds

6 Apr

of everything around me. Music and machines moving in their mechanized strides. Quiet office for me to collect further, extended from this morning’s track. Planning on more work after this work. The writer need stay in mode, creative modality. With writing, there is no pause, lull, stop. On this “break”, I break not a blink from writing. But, I do make sure I more cautiously compose, for sakes of my character composition. Keep the Self connected to Self, what’s solicited from the atmosphere around me. Poetic, everything my eyes intake. Those bangs, clanks, and oggs, whatever that is being moved around out there, seen and heard. Wind against window, right, an image. Force your Self to type, move pen. Even if you have to use your phone, do. If you’re on a break, or some lunch, create. The sounds these thumbtips make while typing on this screen remind me I’m doing it, IT– recording my Now. This… me in a swivel chair, not letting a second go down some existence drain. Water in cup… wish it were coffee. Maybe the break room downstairs had some left in pot. Today teaches me that there is no break in this, this life I see for me… writer. My essays acutely accentuate life and all specifics in it. This room with its keyboards and screens, cubicles and notes pinned to odd colored carpet sides, somewhat-walls. This room sings it’s own tracks to me, telling me to tell everyone ‘keep your narrative sounding’. There will be no seen halt from me. Keep with your journal… write faster. Write two pieces with the seven minutes you have left on that clock. Their clock. But your time. Your page and story. Water gone, sipped rest. Like a timer, new clock. Gone. Me with musings, new sounds and music, all movements. Hearing and Seeing more from IT.

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