I Can’t Stare at a Blank Page

I can't stare at a blank page. The intimidation of emptiness is much harder to face than the lack of proper posturing. I find writing in my head every minute of the day  - driving, walking, dancing - but when the page is in front of me, blankness brings blankness. 

Maybe my mind is blank when I don't see the world. A tree gives 100 stories and a blank screen none. I wish there was more to see in the pixels. 

I want to write everyday - a weird practice when you are not good at making long standing art. Then I want to ditch all that writing one day for an entire new aesthetic. Maybe I don’t want my art to withstand time. 

I feel uninspired today - I’ve opened 10 Google docs with plans to write but no more than a line comes out. Am I just not ready? Do my ideas need a little longer to ferment? What ideas? I’m mostly nonsensical one liners void of real thought today. Empty brain day.

I’m thinking about the large spider that lives in the trash can at work. I’m thinking about cooking a whole chicken. I’m thinking about the otter that steals kayaks and how I want to be her.

There's no essay in the brain today. My thoughts aren’t a deep hiking trail that brings together stories in an interesting way. I put words on a blank screen, so that’s something.