on paper, finally

What is that voice that finally tells me to do something and I do it? I’ve heard the voice before, or the words at least, but maybe in a different tone or accent, in an inopportune moment or circumstance, or by the wrong (though really right) person. No matter how many times the voice calls out, the answer is no. Not today. And tomorrow doesn’t look good either.
Such is my case as a writer as of late. Voices, thoughts, even great topics have knocked around in my head, but between the unwillingness of my brain to commit to a story and fingers unable to do type without that grey matter-of-fact, the page remains empty. At least until tonight, when once again I heard the voice and somehow tricked my brain into moving forward with the task, delightful and uplifting as it is. Were the voices louder, more persuasive, extra flirtatious, more demanding this time? No, but I think in the end, the “Not Today” comment was too boringly predictable.

“What transpires on the page might be pure rubbish, but at least it’s new rubbish,” thinks my heart and fingers. “One can at least wrap fish in it tomorrow if nothing else. For the last couple weeks, the sardines are out loose, smelling up the joint.” (Man alive- if my insides really mutiny against me over sardines and newspaper, I need to have a chat with them…Wait, I might have just admitted I’m schizophrenic. Shh…don’t tell.) So anyway, here’s my attempt at poetics, prose, piffle and poppycock.

The last days are a mix of Sudafed, hard workers, long drives, and sweet tea. The latter explains that we are in the south, the deep south. I’m a Northerner as one can tell by the half and half mix of sweet and unsweet tea I order. (Often times the ratio is more 3:1 or half and half until it becomes half and half and half water. Do the math.) All that to say, it’s a new vice and one I’m taking full advantage of as it’s preferable taste means too things: 1) We’re not in the south too much longer. 2) It’s warm enough to NEED ice tea.
The Sudafed would explain a little bit about the current drink of choice for the kids as they have all come down with something nasty. Coughing, sneezing, puking, running the nose faucet, all of it. Of course, many of the adults had it first, so I’m hoping as we travel north in the next couple weeks the bacteria will stay south for the winter. Despite their condition the kids have really surprised me on stage with their quick and wise choices, adlibbing without any sort of prompting (As in, I don’t think they know the word, they just know that silence or missing a beat is not in their vocabulary.) I say in my head, “Oh dear” only to respond with, “Good Job!” (Again, not talking to myself. Shh…)
The venues have also supplied good rounds of wise, hard workers that are making life easy-going. Dayna in Gainesville, FL replaced a zipper for me which might have taken me a few days to finally get to doing. John kept his team in line when other distractions could have created tensions and laziness. (Plus, he called me Miss Sarah.) Coop will forever be my brain as the big black brother who sweated to make sure everything I needed done was done. And nothing like the cast of Wayne’s World to make sure everything was EXCELLENT.
But more than anything, the last couple weeks are the just the beginning of a few more months of driving forever. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of folks to drive me, “Miss Daisy.” I can read and nap or get behind the wheel and play DJ. All and all we’re doing well, toolin’ along from state to state, time zone to time zone, podcast to podcast.

Trash or Treasure, hard to say. But at least it’s down on paper. No voices to get me now except that of the sheep wanting to jump into my sleep.