Tuesday, Tuesday

It’s Tuesday, June 26, 2007. The clock on my computer reads 1:44. I’ve walked to a local coffee shop, despite the punishing heat and humidity. It’s where I sit at this very moment by a window which offers an unobstructed view of car repair shop. It seems as if every available space in the lot is taken up with some sort of auto in need of repair. The light is glaring, white, and hazy. It makes the heat seem that much more oppressive.
I can’t seem to get it together today which is why I’m at this coffee shop to begin with. I don’t often come here, though it’s pleasant enough and only a short walk from my home. I needed a change of environment no matter how subtle or close by. So I choose this coffee shop with it’s bare pine wood floor, over priced lattes, and barely functioning air conditioner. As I wrote that last line, a somewhat frumpy fellow in line dropped a fistful of change all over the floor behind me. I could watch him slowly and silently pick up the coins out of the corner of my eye as I was typing.
I don’t know why I’m in this funk. Or perhaps I do, but I have chosen to ignore it. Or perhaps compartmentalize it. I would place it in the “things I am aware of but can really do nothing about at the present moment” compartment. I could then start looking for sub-catagories in that file, such as, “temporary malaise”, “general feeling of discontent”, “lingering yet temporary ennui tinged with disillusionment”. Nothing that I haven’t felt before. It will pass with the heated haze. Though, it is frustrating that I can’t seem to overcome it enough to get motivated to work in the studio. Though I have actually started a new work, I feel completely disentranced about the process. This, too, will pass. It’s like writer’s block with a paintbrush.