after the storm

It's already November. It really is amazing how quickly things change, how you can be in one place at one time, and then at another time be in a completely different place without really knowing how you got there. Sorry the posts on here have been sporadic, to say the least. Much has been happening in my life, within and without, and much of my writing has been focused on this. In the mornings before work I go to The Anchor in Covington, and I get orange juice, coffee, and some eggs; and I write. Half the time I don't know what I'm going to be writing when I walk through that door; but by the end of it, pages upon pages have been littered with words and sentences and paragraphs ripped from the ventricles of my beating heart and transliterated onto paper. I use one type of paper, a college ruled notebook that slides into this leather portfolio I use to protect the pages from rain and egg yolk. In the past month alone I've written somewhere between 160-240 pages. All handwritten, too, might I add. Much of these writings will never find their way onto this blog; some of it's frightening, some of it's revealing, all of it is heartfelt. Sometimes I like to wear my heart on my sleeve; sometimes I realize that's silly and foolish and prevent myself from doing so. Because so much of what I'm writing won't be finding its way here, here's something I like and that I'm really finding to be moving me a lot lately. It's called "After the Storm" by Mumford & Sons. Enjoy.