At the moment I'm drinking wine with a German name from California and eating French cheese from the local grocery store. It's a good combination--although I can only hope that it will go so well with writing. I blame Amber for the idea--although, it IS a good one.
Before the glass of wine, I reached over to the bookshelf on my left and picked up a journal from 4 years ago. I'm not sure why--it just happened. It is large, sketchbook size, with a hard cover and handmade paper. On the inside it is filled with interesting observations and thoughts and creative ramblings. There are drawings and images pasted in with glue that threatens to give out from the test of time. It is the year I fell in love with V. and got engaged. For the first time in many, many days, I found myself able to focus. So I read the entire thing. And when I finished with that one I moved to another shelf where another 15 years of journals are kept and read through a few more.
Still, no writing has been accomplished. I find myself at a loss....not knowing what to do. Maybe by the second glass I'll be ready to just write. You know, like I used to back in 2002.