So its been a while, 5 days to be exact, since my last post. The weekend has been quite eventful with live music, great conversations and time well spent dotting the 4-day event. Squeezing 96 hours of joy into one single post would be the undertaking of the century, so I just want to post a little blurb informing those who’ve been reading that while I haven’t been writing everyday as I promised, I have however been experiencing the world in the right way with the right people. As heartbreaking as it is to admit that I’ve already shirked my commitment to “the craft,” I can rest easy knowing that as long as I’m getting large portions of “life,” I will always have something to write about. I could probably go on and on about my weekend and tell you how altruistic the conversations I had were. I could probably go on and on and tell you how amazing getting drunk with the right people can be. I could probably go on and tell you that the more honest you are, the better life would be. (But then I’d be delivering that dreaded first kick to the oh-so-dead horse). While I could sit in this ratty old chair with this ratty, old and incessantly clicking & popping library-rented MacBook #13 and write a thousand or two words on the joy I’ve recently been experiencing, I’m not going to. I would rather inform- rather tease you with brief bits of this information so that you can see where my true intentions lie. Now what I care more about is using this breathtaking experience as creative fuel for my budding prose, not material to bastardize with cliche journaling. “My day was good because blah blah blah” or “Today, I…” No. Sorry. Not for this guy. To borrow a fantastically quaint phrase from a wise but quirky professor of mine, I’ve donned my intellectual snorkeling gear and ran with this thing called “deep diving.” I’d like to imagine that I’ve traversed some fathoms in this rapidly closing past year of college. The thing is that putting these experiences into words, and refined words at that, is no easy task. I can only presume that as I grow older, one day, the thoughts/experiences that I’m having now will surface. Hopefully they’ll grow into something beautiful and worthy of reading. But that’s for another post, another time. Which reminds me why I wrote this piece in the first place: lag. Sometimes lag is necessary. Sometimes for one to get rewarded with those clairvoyant, chord-striking sentences, with those combinations of sonics and perfect diction, one must be forced to wait.
Alas, its 1:16 in the morning. I’m sitting in Monroe Library just now starting on a poetry packet with a long night ahead of me, and here I am writing this post, perpetuating my “lag.” But hey, I had to break the dry-spell eventually and what a way to do it.