An Unproductive Day

Got sweet fuck all done today.  Haven’t done anything in a week on my best of my blog book, but if I keep selecting the way I’ve been selecting, I’ll wind up with a selection I need to go through again.  So much extra work, and it is my worst flaw as a writer.  I tend to like everything I’ve written.  Maybe that’s a form of narcissism.  I suppose it is, but I think that level of ego is inevitable with any writer, or musician, or visual artist.  Maybe not.  There’s more than one kind of person in the world, and probably almost all personality types are represented in almost every field of endeavor.

Started yesterday to put together all the poetry I’ve written since March, which is when my last book was published, and to clean my ‘desktop’ at the same time, and I believe I’m 90% done with that task, but that is always the danger.  I think I’m 90% done so, instead of completing it, or moving on to the next task, I let it slide.
Didn’t get any of my ‘short poems’ that I’m working on lately, done.  The idea there is like 4 or 6 line poems (very quick and easy to write)that I can add a picture to and it makes a nice, little Facebook post.  On the other hand, it’s got about the same artistic limitations as Haiku or Limericks.  I’m not saying something has to be epic length to be epic, but snappy one liners are not going to be enough to change the world.
Ah, well, tomorrow’s another day.

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