Organizing and Planning Fashion / And Hope for a Playful Body / And Organized, Playful Thought Which Gets Appreciated Into Writing

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Organizing and Planning Fashion / And Hope for a Playful Body / And Organized, Playful Thought Which Gets Appreciated Into Writing

 

Angry that I had to drop jogging on the treadmill. I've put on a few pounds, and this is also beginning to sound like a cliche. I know my body is performatively crying for help, so I've just written that down (even though it'll sound like a cliche to me). I have to write in the now, and that is too colliquial to my ear. I had wanted my writer's ear back by now. (I suppose I should just be glad that I haven't VanGogh'd and actually cut my ear off--but I'm goddamned sick of just being relieved that the lowest common denominator of sanity makes sense. What about the highly literate girl that I had been; what about how much I had loved undergrad--but also wished I could have double majored, and then added fashion studies on to that, too? What the hell happened to every.single.thing.that was good, fun, hopeful, and promising in those years. I am so angry. 

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I feel like this needs and deserves a narrative. I feel like the upkeep would need continuing words. Then narratology. Photographs, too. I feel like I am missing out on how I would enjoy life more.

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I procrastinated doing laundry for nearly two weeks this time

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I'm writing this now because I choose writing: writing-as-laundry. This is the second time I gave procrastinated laundry this long: the body did it. The body makes you not do laundry so that you have to get to those clothes at the bottom of the pile. The body procrastinates laundry until you've had to wear the uncomfortable thong to yoga or find yourself wearing the boyshorts that have gotten a little too tight--and thus, ride up in  he crotch: the body also wrote this paragraph quite clearly in my mind before opening this app, and has written some different sentences than the ones i had just heard myself think. The body has ways of making you want to lose weight, change your style, change your entire functional way of eating. The body has ways of driving itself crazy.

Even when you have gone crazy like this before, and fought yourself not to functionin this order, so that you'd never have to experience this again, the body drops the learned systems, re-evaluates, plays back the systems, tries it again the this-kind-of-annoying way. 

And it even does that a few times without placing back in the systems that are heard to narrate these actions, or the sentence structures, or the sociology of the environment, or the resolve to write. To start this particular section, I clearly heard this was to start with the resolve to write. Now I have to proceed toward the bags of unwashed clothes, get them down to the basement, and see if the machines are available. (Those are the first major obstacles I can foresee while writing this.) I'll be back.

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It's always inspiring when I have a particularly enjoyable exercise day. Yesterday's first gorgeous May weather: walking by the beach & on the boardwalk. Then a great Creative Flow yoga class in which we got into twists & binds. Sure, I'm regrettably using general adjectives in this paragraph, but onward toward revision. Gotta barrel on through the writer's block. 

The internet sure makes clichés sound like home. 

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