One of Those (Prison) Days

Having been spit out the other end of the Holiday Season, I feel reluctant, embarrassed, lethargic. It's a prison Saturday though and I need to get my butt moving to put together supplies, copies of writing, and an exercise. The "play" that often accompanies the workshops is absent today, so far. I have lost contact with the men in the workshops. The combined effects of lockdowns, being out of town, and the distractions and overstimulation of the holidays leaves me dazed.

Oh well, and so what.

It's time to move and get stuff together. The biggest ingredient, though, is rekindling the enthusiasm for working on the writing. The magazine is coming together and I need to get revisions to the typist so we can include the latest iterations in next issue.

So, yes, there is snow on the mountains. I am still swirling in the leftover inertia of time off and out of sync. I am hung over in a way. But it's my Monday morning and I need to get moving.

I need to quiet the petulant voices, gather up my stuff, and load the car. It's time to plug back in to what it is the best part of me wants to do.