A perfect day to sit inside, all warm and cozy, and write and write.
Have I given up? Looks more and more like it. Life is just getting in the way.
It's not that I'm all that busy - I actually have a lot of time on my hands that I could be using more productively.
It's my mind that keeps wandering.
My heart just isn't all that into it, and it isn't all that satisfying when I do it. I find myself actively avoiding it more and more, in almost a spirit of rebellion.
Battling the other I.E.s for control makes the fight with the literary one seem trivial in comparison.
Going to kick and punch things now at martial arts. That always seems to help.