I think a lot about the past. Monica once told me that it’s a pretty defining characteristic of my astrological sign and even though I think astrology is a big ol’ bag of horseshit, I can’t help thinking that it’s not only accurate, but pretty telling of who I am.
The face I just made upon reading the above paragraph is the difference between Chicago and New York, by the way. It was one of these:
When I write, I catch myself making that face a lot. I always think about the people I grew up with rolling their eyes, saying something like “Hey buddy, good for you! The writing thing seems to be going well!” then immediately returning to concerns about things like mortgages, kids and President Obama trying to make them pay for mythological lazy minorities.
It’s a thing that I think is the sole difference between “creative” communities and those that aren’t. The reluctance to put an idea out there without fear of being judged.
I worry that I do to many list-type stuff when I write. It’s funny because I think in bullet points.
Look, I woke up this morning with the intent to clean my apartment.
I’m writing stuff like this instead.