Lesley LaComment

The anti-blog.

Lesley LaComment
The anti-blog.
For I do believe that all writers are opportunists, and also that many of us feel guilty about it. We are forever trying to have our pure, unmediated experiences while at the same time, however covertly, assessing them for possibilities. We test the fabric with our subtle fingertips, bite down on the coin to see if it really is gold. We feel guilt because our assaying consciousness divides us from the authenticity of the event…

I was, then, on the one hand pushing toward the purest, most complete immersion I could manage, trying for the utter suspension that characterized the reading that first hooked me, but on the other hand also aware of that sly and ineradicable opportunism, of my mind annotating the shifts in its own investment, even as that awareness, à la Heisenberg, altered the outcomes of the experiment.
— Sven Birkerts

Since my last post, I’ve been doing a lot of “going” and “being”— obviously not a whole lot of writing. I’ve started a business, joined a gym AND a boxing club, travelled to Las Vegas and Miami, successfully sold my home in Austin, and moved into my house in Houston. I’m writing this blog on my iPhone on the beach in Fort Lauderdale as I avoid letting my mind empty-out. Sea, sand and sun are my absolute favorite things in this world, yet I still struggle with just living in the moment.

I stared out this morning, thinking, “I should write about this—dammit, what should I write?” 

Just know that I am ridiculously happy. Grateful. And I’m going to hold on to this as long as I can. As a writer and chronic over-thinker, I often catch myself trying to “steer the narrative” when I really should just be living life.

So—at least for today—as much as I would love to truly break my blogging hiatus to share whatever significance I’ve attached to this day—to this moment, I’m just going to stay in it; unaltered.