Howdy, friends. It’s been a while…
What have you been up to? What have I been up to?
Discipline. Discipline. Discipline. Pray for me, friends. I have no discipline, but I desperately need it.
I’m wanting to write more. The gimmick of the moment I’ve purchased to help aid in that this time is a beautiful leather five year journal. I’ve never been much for journaling, but I very much enjoy the idea of a single book with a few lines devoted to the same day over five years. It will be interesting to see what twists, turns, pitfalls, and pinnacles I’ll have over the next half-decade. Such a format does not afford verbosity, but it’s not as if I’ve been doing much writing in the first place. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but it’s also apparently the soul of habit-forming.
I’m dreaming up ideas. More will come soon. Here’s something very short I wrote tonight:
Will Armand was drowning.
All his friends agreed. The stresses of his job, coupled with marital issues, financial issues, and self-esteem issues made for a man that was truly drowning in the pressures of modern life. It had been this way for a while, and those who cared for him were truly worried. But for all their knowledge, they did not have the insight afforded to Corey Ashland, a complete stranger who was walking along Crybaby Bridge late one night in Milton-Cumberland, Indiana. As he gazed across the water, he learned something about Will Armand that none of his friends knew, but that still made him think Will was drowning.
Will had about five liters of water in the space in his lungs that most people would host oxygen.
Good night, everyone.