They say confession is good for the soul. I tend to believe what “they” say. tonight  I confess that sometimes the loneliness of writing is almost all I can take. I said things to a friend that had been resting heavy on my heart for a long time. In fact, it felt really good to tell somebody how I’d been feeling, that is, other than Facebook, Twitter and the blog.

but the blog is my friend. i say ‘don’t knock it until you’ve tried it’. but it can also be a cruel task master.

like on the nights when all i want to do is veg out in front of the tv and as i’m groping for the remote control, i remember my blog and my commitment to it. as you can see by the considerable gap between now and the last entry, sometimes the tug-of-war with the remote control ends in defeat.

but the fight is the thing.

and so i fight on.

i’m submitting an application to Cave Canem Writer’s Retreat, held each year in Philadelphia, PA for African-American poets and writers of African descent. The dates for the writer’s retreat directly conflict with my obligations to my work–the ‘real’ work. but i must save my own life. and i must persevere.

otherwise, all is lost.

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