i could write myself a book

from my journal this morning:

"bird by bird" says to write every day.

i am meeting my friend chad in a coffee shop called ugly mugs. the place has a garage door on the front that is raised and letting in the cool and slightly damp october air, and flies. i keep having to shoo them away from my muffin. anne lamott says to write every day. my hand already hurts. maybe i slept on it funny. the sun keeps sliding around in its focus, the clouds keep betraying its hiding spot.

there are children growing up in front of me

the standard singer behind me says. i purposely didn't bring my laptop to write today. i didn't know it at the time but it's true.
i am still waiting on my friend chad to join me, and together we will be all things, all experiences in this city. this strange small-town big city. we will sit and compare stories of customers and celebrities, coffee houses and church. sometimes they are one and the same, bleeding and breeding into each other to become nashville.
i am in east nashville right now, the part of the city that feels like new orleans, only a little less hostile. it is eclectic and diverse and rich and poor, slapped together into something quaint with beautiful doors. it feels misunderstood. no wonder i am drawn to it. i want to step through some interesting door, and find a room full of

oh that's why i act the way i do. you do too!

i am sometimes tired of "writing into the void" as if some character in a nora ephron film. just come here and read my tiny black print, with misspelled words. take it as it is, no inner critic, just inner creative spirit yelping and sighing along the page. and your heart will understand mine. no more is needed.