“…Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.” Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita.

I love that line. I always repeat it in my head. If only I had thought of such a perfect sentence. Alliteration. Nabokov. What an author to admire. What a story!

Maybe I should stop thinking about writing and start doing it. Doing rather than thinking. Repeat. Do rather than think.

Thinking on the bus each morning as I travel to work in the hard, grey city. Thinking as I bathe each evening. Thinking alone each night in my warm, soft bed. Incessant thinking. The super-charged cogs turning, turning. The endless, messy, confused, stream-of-consciousness whirlpool of thoughts. A jambalaya of memories, past, future, sometimes the present. Perhaps if I wrote things down and out of my head the fog would lift?

The paper and pen or the keyboard and crisp, white space on the screen. Could they be a salve? A balm of some sort?

I think so.

Actions speak louder than words.

Jesus that was emo. This post is emo isn’t it? Now the cogs are turning into overdrive and oh my God I don’t want people to think this blog will be filled with posts like this I swear it won’t be and now I think I need a paper bag. And a nice comforting cheese plate. And red wine. Definitely a large glass.


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