One year ago I was living in LA, it was 104 degrees, down from a crazy heatwave high of 114, and I watched fireworks from the roof of my apartment in Silver Lake.
Life changes fast, people. When it does.
One year later, I watch bunnies feast in a Cape Cod backyard, beneath a bird feeder filled with cardinals. Burgers and dogs on the grill. A day at the beach, sand in the eyes, sandcastles, bike rides, a fight or two, boys.
Couldn’t be more different. One year.
I haven’t written much lately. In it, swirling, no time to analyze, just act, go, respond.
It’s a good thing.
Then I begin to worry… without angst, what to write about?
Learning curves vs. angst. One moves forward. One in circles, spirals, backwards, or worse, stagnation. I was scared of the former for so long. But, why? The second will slowly eat you up.
Now, what to write?
Seven years to the day since I sat on a train in Moab, waiting for the clouds to clear so we could resume shooting a scene for the movie we were working on; a friend begins to call me Smagik on that ride, after making fun of me for something I said. The word is born. The blog, seven months later. An outlet for both confusion and clarity.
Seven years. One year. Time. Nothing changes, until one day you realize everything is different.
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