Write On

My reading of Write On

You should write something. I always enjoy your writing. Why don’t you write? You’re good. More people should read it.

Well, I’d love to, but I just have these things stopping me.

Like what? There are 24 hours in a day.

I know but they tend to be 24 hours of stress and anxiety. Seems it’s been like that for a long time.

We’re all in the same boat, I know. Life is so hard. We’re going away next week. A mini-break. Otherwise, we’d just burn out.  You should get some exercise. That helps.

I know. I like exercise but all the gyms are shut with the pandemic and I have plantar fasciitis that makes running more of a nasty challenge than a way to relax.

Have you tried yoga? We love it.

No. I just don’t see the attraction.

What about meditation? We do a bit of that. Find it really helps when things get on top of us.

I might try it. I bought an app for $100 and never really used it.

You really should write. I love your writing.

Thanks. I will. Just need to get some rest and sort my head out. And my throat. I got this bad throat a week ago and that hasn’t helped.

Good. We like your writing.


After four hours rolling from side to side in bed last night/this morning, thinking about all the exercise and writing I haven’t been doing, I got up and opened The Unknown University* – a collection of poems by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño. I read the first two in order – I never usually read poetry books in order – and I decided the time had come to write on.

Let’s see, said the blind man.

*The title is correct here but in the audio I appear to say “Universe,” instead of “University.” I could make a dishonest argument that it is my throat, but the truth is I always refer to this book – wrongly – as The Unknown Universe. Under normal circumstances, I’d fix the audio but – this is true – my throat isn’t great and anyway, really, who cares? I do, obviously, hence this note. But other than me, I am pretty sure no one is bothered.

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