I’ve got so much on my mind my head feels like one of those candy dispenser machines that used to shoot colorful bubblegum balls, bouncing red, green, orange, purple, and yellow balls into the air inside a glass globe. You used to see them at bowling alleys and stores like K-Mart. Took a walk up to the bluff yesterday. It was windier yesterday than on Saturday, the sun high and bright, the sea glittering. The weekend was warm and lovely, and I for once didn’t have any place to be nor any particular mundanity pressing on me. I worked on my visualization presentation to a friend’s writers group upcoming in March, did my Federal taxes, and read John Fowles: The Journals.
Did a lot of writing in my Moleskine journal too–notes for a new short story and recollections of an old short story that I lost years ago. I wondered if I could write it again. After all these years, I still remember what it was about, still remember the main character, a young married woman who’d just become a mother, and her conflict with her husband’s aunt. I also remember that I had about ten pages of it and I never finished it.
Yesterday, behind the bench where I sat, two people were sacked out on the grass in the sun-scented breezes. Bicyclers and walkers roamed the pedwalk, and Ocean Boulevard hissed with ceaseless traffic. Sitting there I couldn’t help thinking how nice it was not to have to be anyplace or do anything (although I knew I was going to work on the presentation), that it was nice to sit, to think, to write in my journal, and not feel guilty about simply enjoying a lovely day.
I have so little free time to write or read and so very much to write and read that when suddenly presented with a free weekend, I almost don’t know what to do at all.