I cried this morning at Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah then I turned on the telly to a silly Hugh Grant romcom and the tears didn’t stop they just came harder then my son saw me crying and for that I am sorry I have been holding it in afraid that once that shield is pierced there will be no stoppering it up again not for a long while but I dried up quick enough he is still preparing for his trip to his father’s only a four six hour drive (he just corrected me on that I forgot!) but one now that feels fraught and down in the weeds and dangerous and weird

I am going to attempt to write every day during my alone time even if it is just a sentence or two this morning a poet wrote on twitter “forgive my covid lit” a sentiment I have read many times lately the old lit standard that we should not write about topical circumstances and it makes me sad that some writers try to shame other writers into not writing about such an earthshaking event the way I see it is how can we write about anything else right now also to be honest I’m not an academic poet and I have never followed those prescribed rules even though I know them I unfollowed the poet who wrote that she does not follow me or know my work so it won’t hurt her feelings a small loss

I’m going to go see if John the Carpenter has eggs then let the day unfold

good morning from the left coast