Trying to get through all of the unfinished posts right now but can’t stop thinking about the feeling that is sitting in the dark alone outside. Times can be tough and sometimes I feel that the only way I can write authentically and coherently is by being alone, in a space with no judgement or prying eyes. Just me and the pen or in this case the laptop which I hold tightly to my chest as I trudge outside, pretty drained from having to write drafts and drafts of English literature and fail at Math the entire day and sit down. I’ve got something of an open conservatory going on (though it’s extremely unfinished) so I just sit on the arm chair as the wind passes through me. I think I get creeped out easily I’m not sure but suddenly you start hearing noises that are slightly distracting – or in my case very distracting- I know there’s no-one in my garden waiting behind me sinisterly, but the whispers of the night, the grating sound of whatever really does bug me and it sucks because I really enjoy the feeling of isolation and silence. I like my only source of light being the screen, and I appreciate how the enfulging darkness gives me the impression that I’m the only one on earth. But silence is a facade I’ve created in my mind I guess because the nighttime is full of life and movement, I honestly think a spring day in May would feel more serene. How do you deal with the sounds of the night? Do you enjoy it, does it excite you or keep you on your toes? Do you kind of hate it like me and have to scurry back inside as you look out your window longingly? Maybe I’m just not truly in that nighttime mood yet and when I’m really feeling blue I could sit outside the entirety of the night and not feel a shiver and instead feel a warmth that I can’t receive from anyone else. Can the night offer safety or is that in itself impossible, is darkness too cruel, too uninviting?
Anyway that’s it. Hoping I get some posts out for you guys, just a random, not coherent thought from me but as you should know- Spyder is always spontaneous. Nothing is perfect or calculated, it’s all about how you feel, and tonight I felt like this – a bit of an overreacter with posts to publish.
See you in the next one,
check out this new post in the meantime – Lili Mccusker – Poet
Deb
Where all the love goes
22:15 8/08
Spyder 