strike

when you start to get not an idea, but this feeling of, i know i’m feeling anxious because i’m going to write something in the next week or month, i don’t know when, but i’m going to write something, i can feel it, but i don’t know what it is yet, and there’s nothing i can do but wait. and wait. and watch another episode of true blood. and re-read toeti heraty’s “sajak-sajak 33” for the gazillionth time. and wait some more.

it’s like someone’s promised you a porsche, or the first edition of lorrie moore’s “self-help”, for your birthday. but they forgot to tell you when your birthday was.

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