I am filling up a notebook in small blocks of writing.
TS explained how she wrote down, “Meet me behind the mall” and knew someday she would put it in a song.
I am that way with word combinations, double entendres,  words that make me wonder about the origin.  There hasn’t been a time when I wasn’t collecting words, but for the first time I am compelled to write them down.  I was listening to a interview the other day and all the sudden my brain said, ‘Go grab a pen and paper…we got some shit we need share.”  and there I was standing in my kitchen manic writing. “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop” i chanted as the pen literally scratched along the surface of the paper.
After looking at what I wrote and rereading it at least ten times I set the pen down and went to bed.
The next morning the notepad was splayed open where I left it and I reread what I wrote.  “Yes, there is something here…but what is it?”

It’s therapy.   It allows me to see my insecurities and lessons I am willing to acknowledge now.

That’s what this is.  It’s not for a single person to actually read, it’s just for me to just revisit.  I did that last week and that is why I put most of the shit I wrote years ago on published but not visible.  I didn’t want to reread it…the good, the funny and the memories of a time when I wasn’t the person I am.

I guess all those time are scribblings in a notebook too…with just more context.