neck

"the blasted treeline"

day two

God, this is hard.

But at least something happened to me yesterday, so I can write about that. If I can remember what is was. I mean, I know something happened. I made a mental note to the effect of "blog about this tomorrow", but I guess the note should have been about what it was, rather than its noteworthiness. Or maybe the note should have been half about the nature of the event, and half about its importance, because if I just remembered the event, instead of remembering to write about it, I'd be in the same boat I'm in now. Then again, if it was an event of note, I probably wouldn't need to remind myself to write about it. I'd just write about it.

What was I talking about?

writing season

You know how, when you stop doing something, like writing, for instance, or you only intermittently do that thing, like occasionally writing a dumb story about a family that goes to the moon, you start to forget how to do that thing. You know, like writing, for instance? Yeah, well, I didn't forget how to write. I just wanted to know if that's ever happened to you. That's all.

See, I can totally write. I just haven't. I just didn't want to for the past four months, because it was, like, summer and everything. And that's the only time I can do squat thrusts on the beach and bench and stuff. It ain't easy to write with your hands wrapped around sixty pounds of cold steel. That's sixty pounds in EACH HAND, btw. Go ahead, try it. I'll wait.

What'd I tell you, bro? I don't lie.

But now that it's fall, I might give this writing thing another go. If I don't find something better to do.