I am writing a two hour workshop today. I was not meant to be writing it, exactly, but things fell out the way they fell out and now that is my Wednesday and I am frustrated as hell. I have Pulp’s This Is Hardcore on the stereo, ’cause it matches my mood. Cycling back and forth between The Fear and the title track. I wasn’t really a fan of Pulp, before this album came out in 1998, but I listened to this one over and over and over. Horns, piano, anguish. Brilliant.
Pulp helps, I think, but I could be wrong. I’ve written this blog post a half-dozen times already, trying to find the angle or the spin that makes it something that I can post. Something that isn’t the equivalent of me showing up here and saying, effectively: today is hard. I am fretting about things. I have The Fear. I don’t want to be writing workshops today. I want to disappear into fiction, mess around with things that let me pretend that today is not quite so hard. I want to delete everything and refuse to engage with anyone.
But, honestly, there is no way around that.
Today is hard. I have The Fear. And the work needs to be done regardless.