I get all excited to write this damn essay and then I start to do this research and momentum grinds to a mother fucking halt. Next thing you know I’m curled up on the kitchen floor with a week old half frozen muffin staring at the ceiling and hoping my cell phone won’t erupt out of the bedroom and start ringing in my face.
My coworker is calling me like thirty times in this bitch so he can ask me to work tonight because his friend’s only in town for tonight. Well god damn it. I never ask anyone to work for me and I deserve a day off, too god damn it. Just leave me alone, coworker. God damn it that’s why I didn’t want to make friends with everyone, which I ended up doing in the end because I can’t help it. I know I’m going to tell that mother fucker no I can’t come in and he’s going to want to have an argument about it. Merlin’s beard! Shit! Tell your friend to take a nap and ya’ll can hang out after work! The agony. I can’t answer the phone because if I do I know I’ll end up going in and I already told GF I wouldn’t. She hates when I have to go in on short notice. The worst part was I went into the bedroom to get the phone to see if she had texted me. She had so I started texting her back, but my phone if you type on it and someone calls, it doesn’t matter which button you push it answers, so he called and I pushed and we were connected. I hung up right away but now I’m sure he suspects some fucking chicanery out this bitch.
But that’s not why I ran out of momentum. That happened when I actually started collecting facts. I like just writing shit I don’t want to have to do actual work! Damn it! Shit!
Maybe I can only spontaneously create shit. Maybe I’m trying to force an organic process. Damn it. I’ve got to pull it together!
How did Joan Didion do it?
I guess you write it first and you fact check later. I don’t know. Shit.