back in the saddle or on the page

Another lapse in my commitment to writing has occurred. Today is day 1 of fighting the dragon of not writing. I'm posting the little bit I got out just because of how it ends. My hell and probably many others.

I’m sitting here until my soup boils. It’s in the pot. I squeezed lemon in there and I will add some agave syrup too. I like the sweet/sour thing and use that combination to gussy up all my canned soups. That way, I don’t have to crave the flavors and take myself out to a Chinese restaurant and eat their hot and sour soup-which is usually not that satisfying as they tend to be more peppery and there is probably more sugar in them than I realize.

It’s that soup time of year; windy and chilly outside. Fall, I am surprised by the way my tastes and preferences change with the months even if the sun is still blazing bright. The air just seems to change and along with it my bodily sensations.

I want warm soup and lit candles in the house. Perhaps it has to do with the shorter days. That seems so obvious. Lack of light would cause one to desire light. Candles offer that but I want them lit during the day too. Maybe it’s just the warm glow of candlelight I am yearning for; warm glow of candles and warm arms of embrace. These early nights accentuate my loneliness, my yearning to have a warm body around, someone to sit beside me and share meals with as I enjoy cooking more during this time of year too.

I am sure these are natural and universal urges. This probably seems obvious to the person on the East Coast or in the Midwest. Duh, it gets cold and dark-obvious remedies, more clothes and hot food, candlelight and sex.

See, this is why I shouldn’t be a writer: nothing original to say.