Listen to my fan and watch the wall

I have been contemplating a similar novel for a few good years. I have been writing the first two chapters since October. To say that my writing is an ebb and flow, that thing which I most fear, is an understatement. Recently, I finished the first chapter with immense relief and renewed diligence. Then my computer broke.

I am not drawn to technology. It irritates my senses. I don't know boo about functions. I don't like owning expensive things. I have a laptop. That is it and it broke. My employer's IT queen doesn't understand how. She says she's never seen something so corrupt. Once again, the novel is on hold.

In the meantime, I have taken up pen-to-paper journaling—stream of consciousness, short thoughts, my monthly budget. On the bus. At night. Right now, in the park.

Life falls quite lovely when I put it into words. It has a point. A sun all its own. And all that's really necessary is breathing. In and out and through the nose.

I wish I could give my computer, my complicated box of words, mouth to mouth, tangible love, loving touch.