Saturday, April 30, 2016


Sisyphus is on my mind again—or still, if you prefer. Repetition, practice, focus, purpose. The myth stays with us because of its inherent truth.

* * *

Fuck, this is going to be one of those mornings. Let's try again.

“Hey, did you hear about Sisyphus?”

“No, what happened?”

“Dude, he rocks!”

See, now I'm not even trying. I'm shirking my obligation to keep pushing, even when the effort is futile.

* * *

Okay, so what is the alternative? Well, there's a photo of a purplish flower with dew on it at the top of the page. We could talk about that a little.

The photo was taken in Balboa Park, in February 2012. Those are exciting details. Don't you just feel like you were there?

* * *

The important thing about writing practice is to keep moving, keep pushing that rock up a hill. Sometimes you get so engrossed in the pushing that you forget about the rock. Other times, like know, you forget about everything but the rock.

* * *

Fine, we're stuck again. Keep pushing.

“Are we there yet?”


“Are we there yet?”

The answer will always be no. Keep pushing.

* * *

Free advice: Don't be a writer. Find a different rock to push.

More free advice: Don't listen to free advice.

Wait, should I be charging for advice? If an advisor falls in the forest and no one is around, does it make money?

* * *

I was hoping for better when I'd started this 11 minutes ago. I'm always hoping for better. I'm also stubborn, so even though I scream a lot, I keep pushing—a whinier version of Sisyphus. I can push a rock and throw a fit at the same time. Multitasking!

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