Big Brother figure wanted

Blogger is taking an agonizingly long time to add photos today, so I can't be bothered with it for the last post right now. Maybe I'll put them on my flickr page one of these days soon.

The last post is really, really long. I don't expect anyone to actually read it. I think that was more for myself.

I have committed to writing 20 minutes a day. It reminds me of a post from last summer, when I was writing every day and, basically, laughing at Hemingway. He had what seemed to me to be ridiculously easy writing goals for himself. But here I am, unsure whether I can actually manage 20 minutes a day (or a cumulative total of 100 minutes a week). I sure as hell have the time. I have vast acres and long swaths of time. But I also have a bad case of ennui. Ennui cripples me. How do I shake it?

My favorite bar in Detroit is Cliff Bell's. It's so fancy and beautiful. I had been there before, but never to see music. Jen and Deborah and I went to see ladies play music Sunday night. There are little tables with chairs to sit in while the music is playing, which seemed exotic. It also seems like a natural/inevitable progression in my life. I may suddenly be too old to go to bars where I have to stand up to watch the music. My pins enjoy a break now and then.

Last night I watched the Wilco documentary, I am Trying to Break Your Heart. It added melancholy to my ennui, although I'm not sure why. So now I have melennui.

I think it has to do with the creative process, and people living their real creative potential. I feel like I flee from my creative potential, or that it inhabits my home in the form of dust bunnies. At the retreat, the vast, epic chunks of time were motivating, not frightening. I think, sadly, that I feel like I'm not quite real if I'm alone too much. I need to know I'm being watched or something...