Why do I search for anything at all to do to distract me from what I am supposed to do? I'll wait to the last minute. Make myself uncomfortable, almost on purpose, in order prolong, procrastinate, not do what's due till I'm sure I have no more time to do it. I promote myself to something bigger, better. On my mind lots, little, nothing, one thing. All at once, I'm looking at myself wondering why? how? now and then, it's a sure-fire sign, don't even know what that means, it just came to my mind, and now what, rhymning? This is getting fucking dumb.
I look across the room and see others. Some working, some wondering. Some wandering. I see myself in them. How I'm supposed to be here and nowhere else. I've got nowhere else to go. These fingers with nothing else to type but what comes to mind at this time. So I'll sit. Sloutch. Put pressure on my tailbone until it hurts and I have to get up. Stretch. I'll continue to push to the back of my mind what I'm here to do. But I'll think of you and if you'll even read this, have access, come across and see for a second what little bit it is I've published today.
And for a moment I think about my deadline. Then the dead.He says, "Good." A simple, encouraging word. Providing direction. Instruction to the next step with nods, and affrirming gaze. Pursed lips as the chin rises. Yes. Move one. Good move. Go head.
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