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I stop myself from creativity
I stop myself from writing posts like these because in the act of writing them, I judge myself for whatever I might say. I second guess my words. I dismiss them. I think I should edit it, and then edit it a whole bunch of times more, and I think about how after I have edited a post many times and then published it, when I later read it I start to cringe. I no longer like what I have written. So I stop myself from doing it in the first place. Or I stop myself because everything seems to have already been expressed by writers that I consider to…
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Snapshot: Coffee
When I wait in line at the coffeehouse (or anywhere else, really) and there’s a bunch of people chatting in front of me and laughing and sometimes horsing around, I wonder just what it is that they’re saying. The usual response I’ll get from someone who is hearing is that these conversations that they overhear—or even participate in—are usually unimportant or uninteresting. But this is an unfair way to write off what might actually be valuable to me. To know what is being said, even all the ridiculous and potentially stupid stuff, is to be exposed to the thoughts and ideas and observations of people that I would otherwise not…
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Just thoughts
I can’t expect peace to find me, I have to look for it. I can’t expect inspiration to tackle me, I have to tackle it. I can’t sense what is beautiful about the world if I don’t use what senses I have to notice it. I can’t expect the best from others, because we aren’t always at our best. I spend too much time judging, either the actions of others or my own actions. I fail to measure up to my own expectations, or I feel that others fail to measure up. It’s an exercise in futility, an act lacking in compassion, a neverending journey on a hamster wheel. I…
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Flash Fiction: Without
Without By J. Parrish Lewis © 2018 They didn’t come for our guns, we surrendered them. On March 15, 2021, the inexplicable desire to be rid of every gun in my home woke me from my sleep. It wasn’t long before I learned that the same desire welled up within every gun owner. None of us seemed to understand our own actions — myself included — as we gathered our guns and piled them into our cars, our backpacks, our oversized eco-friendly recyclable shopping bags. Glocks, Shields, Rugers, Sig Sauers, AR-15s, Remingtons, Magnums — you name it, we had it — and bullets, bullets, bullets, truckloads of bullets, all of…
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I may delete this post
I just wrote a paragraph of this post and then deleted it. Not surprising. I may still keep deleting. It’s funny sad how I dislike my writing, usually. So rarely satisfied with anything that I write, which, I guess, is pretty much the norm for anyone who cares about being a writer. I lack originality in that characteristic, but on the plus side it means I’ve got plenty of good company out there in the world. It’s such a cliche, though. This website’s getting cobwebby, dusty, abandoned, nearly forgotten. It’s a dilapidated shack in the leaf-heavy woods, barely noticeable as nature continues to reclaim it. But it’s not you –…
Writings & Doodles by J. Parrish Lewis
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