Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Now or Never

Here's what I think: A writer has one window per day to get anything of any worth done. For some, it's late at night when the world has quieted down and the distractions have subsided, or all those people have stopped talking or gone home or fallen asleep. For others, like me, it's early in the morning, around when the sun is rising, when the distractions have not yet begun. The trick is to keep your brain empty. Don't look at the newspaper; don't listen to music; and for the love of god, don't check your email or look at Instagram or do anything foolish and modern. Stay human for as long as you can, and let real thoughts drift to the surface of your brain, form, mutate, and find a way to express themselves. Do not let this window pass by unused or else you will feel restless and cheated until you get another chance. You will spend the next 24 hours lying in wait, like a predator, ready to pounce. Miss it enough times in a row, and you will begin to starve. You will roam with a wild look in your eye, emitting a weird kind of desperate energy. People will think you're scary and exciting. You're not scary or exciting. Just get up early, do your writing, and stop being so dramatic about it.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Humiliation of the Day

Summer rain is pelting down outside. Happily working away at a crowded cafe in Williamsburg. Feeling productive. All is well.

I zoned out for a few minutes, and when I re-focused, I realized I had been singing Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" the entire time, completely involuntarily. I haven't thought about that song in years, but like some repressed trauma, it resurfaced and used me as a vessel to reassert itself. I feel so violated. 

The people sitting around me pretended not to notice. I know they noticed.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

New York.

I initially left Paris in 2009 and it has taken me until now -- about 4 years -- to admit that I properly live in New York again. In all that time, Moveable Beast was dormant because, for some reason, I thought my imagination was dead.

It's not actually dead. I've just been busy and making excuses (or more accurately: busy making excuses). But now it's time to start writing about nothing again, which is my favorite thing to do. Stand by for more. 


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