There are too many drafts but not enough of them would even make it into the “unfinished thoughts” category. I wrote about Jessica Jones and then about Daredevil, which catches me up on Marvel for now. I wrote about how Sydney is starting to show me what I’m going to be like over here – cautious but free, disassociated from myself but growing to know myself better.
The odd thing is that the city does not change and yet it feels like it is always in flux. I need to figure out what gives me this feeling whether it’s the fast-changing weather, snippets of rock-n-roll remixed with 80’s disco music that I sometimes hear, or the ambivalent nature of people I meet here. It looks like most thoughts will be finished in draft and never published. But at least I am still writing after that ten year old hiatus.
I think about it often, actually, how long it took me to go back to writing. How long it took to not only develop a command of English but to let the language craft the way I think and innovate who I am as a writer. I took bloody damn long considering that now I am at that stage where I rarely have spouts of imagination with all the white office furniture and clearly defined objectives.
I forgot what piece of writing made me want to write but I do remember a thought I used to obsess about – words create words. Maybe one of those days I’ll go back to La Pelle. I’ll go back to that raw, rough, aggressive beauty and I will mourn everything that is lost. All that remains then is to pick myself up, continue living within this city, and wait for someone who knows what the hell I’m even talking about.