I decided that I would seize this new month’s clean slate to do some of the things I usually wish I have done as I lay down to sleep at night.  It all hinges upon my own discipline, of which I seem to have very little.

Three full months (and some weeks) until I turn 30.

Tonight I am writing to get back in the practice of writing.  I read a few published short stories today, most of them left me feeling ambivalent.  I know, though, that I have some ground to cover before I will get to read my own work in the likes of Zoetrope or the New Yorker.  It starts with this simple habit of starting.

My stomach is incredibly full, or maybe I should say my intestines.  These past few week have not been great for me health-wise.  This drags on my spirit.

And yet my imagination and/or my desire still seems to be incredibly vibrant.  I take this as a positive sign for the future.

Good night…