There’s a rhythm to writing that feels familiar and provides inspiration to keep going but I don’t always feel it.
Think I had a touch of it here but haven’t decided if I am 100 percent on that or not.
Daughter is angry about some of the silly comments people make about California because she is protective of her home state and some of their remarks are based in ignorance.
I tell her to try and let some of it go because people who talk about Long Beach or San Diego as being part of Los Angeles aren’t worth engaging with.
“During my lifetime there have been seven different governors and four of them were republicans. Orange County and San Diego were pretty damn conservative and so were/are swaths of the Central and San Joaquin Valleys. Kevin McCarthy and Devin Nunes aren’t known for being liberal.
Don’t argue with people who aren’t educated, informed or interested in facts. It’s a life lesson learned by living a little bit and I have a couple of years on you.”
She has a fire in her belly that resembles her father’s so I don’t expect my words to sink in, but I hope they do.
Sometimes you try to write something that feels like someone just grabbed you by your shoulders or wrapped their fingers in your hair so that you would have to pay attention.
Not in a rough or violent way, but with the sort of feeling that you get when someone puts their hand in the middle of your back to guide you.
If it works you won’t walk away feeling like you were forced but happy because someone pointed out something that you are happy to not have missed.
Think of it as the rare connection you find with just a few. The one where you don’t have to talk to communicate and never notice time when you are together.
That is what I have been working on, writing here and there, trying to get the right words written down the right way.
Sometimes you think about trying to pull off what Dylan did with subterranean homesick blues and sometimes you try for a different direction.
