As of this moment, this is the third time I’ve attempted to write this week’s remarks. I’ve been away from writing so long that I seem to have forgotten how to do it.
The Tramp Stamps piece from last week had been in the works for three months by that point, and I’d found the energy to finish it via the magical motivating invigoration of Massage Therapy class ending. The words seemed to fly out of my fingers, borne by the desire to simply SAY SOMETHING for the first time in ages.
Now, the insulation class provided is gone, completely ripped away in an instant, and I am left with the prospect of independently filling my time with stuff to do.
Time to think.
Time to reflect.
Time to allow myself to simply exist.
Time to lower the barriers around my brain that forced me to stay focused on my tasks.
Time to process the slightly terrifying revelation that I’ve had the luxury to not think in my usual way for six months.
So.
Yes, hello.
My brain has been pent up with so many different topics. Star Wars and the spectre of Luke Skywalker. Hickman’s X-Men being a continuation and an escalation of Morrison’s X-Men. Unforgiven and Blazing Saddles being essentially about the same thing (I’ve written about that one before). Bonnie McKee’s debut album prefiguring fifteen years of pop music in 2004. RE7 as Tobe Hooper and RE8 as Guillermo Del Toro. Reckoning with the tensions between massage therapy and sex work. How the pandemic will shape the creation of culture and who will now have access to the means of production.
Like. Lots of stuff.
All of it has been roiling around in my head for months now, with no real outlet. I hope to change that in the coming months. I still have my licensing exam and finish my internship hours, but my days have opened up immensely.
I’ll do my best to post once a week, and maybe get back to fiction again. For the moment, however, my writing will probably stick to the template I set before my hiatus.
This week, however, is about the most I can manage.
Love you, take care, hope you’re doing well.