I have no idea what I am going to write today. I guess that makes me a writer. I can’t complain. That’s what Mondays are for. Today, we write fiction. Or talk about writing. We talk about what is going on in the world of Fin. That’s what we are going to do today. Welcome to the blog.

I haven’t been writing as much as I would like, to be honest. I have made a list of all these competitions and journals I would like to enter but haven’t been putting in the time. Life is getting in the way a bit. Don’t you just hate it when reality hits you in the face?

One thing I will hopefully be doing more of is going to more open mic events. That is always a good time. Speaking to people about performing at them, I realize I have an advantage. I am an actor, so I don’t mind being in front of people. One thing I need to get better at is reciting my stuff. I watch the likes of Stephen James Smith and Neil Hilborn, and I am always in awe at how they remember their poems from memory. I want to get better at that. I think you just need to put in the time.

On a more personal note, ya boi needs a job like one that pays you money. I am not ashamed to say I have been unemployed for a while. I know I am not the only person who is unemployed in this country at this time. I have faith that something will happen soon. I was filling out an application just yesterday. Maybe something will happen soon. Who knows? Not me.

Here’s a poem I revisited recently. It’s a great poem. Watch the performance here. Have a wonderful weekend. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. Thank you for reading, and thank you for your time.

OCD By Neil Hilborn

The first time I saw her…

Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments.

Even in bed, I’m thinking:

Did I lock the doors? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

Did I lock the doors? Yes.

Did I wash my hands? Yes.

But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips..

Or the eyelash on her cheek —

the eyelash on her cheek —

the eyelash on her cheek.

I knew I had to talk to her.

I asked her out six times in thirty seconds.

She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going.

On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or f*cking talking to her…

But she loved it.

She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday.

She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk.

When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times.

I’d always watch her mouth when she talked —

when she talked —

when she talked —

when she talked when she talked;

when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.

At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off,

and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and

off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off.

She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her.

Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was

just making her late for work…

When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking…

When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line.

She told me that I was taking up too much of her time.

Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place.

She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her;that this whole thing was a mistake, but…

How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her?

Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t.

I can’t — I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her.

Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin.

I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars…

And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.

I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel..

How she turns shower knobs like she’s opening a safe.

How she blows out candles —

blows out candles —

blows out candles —

blows out candles —

blows out candles —

blows out…

Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once

— he doesn’t care if it’s perfect!

I want her back so bad…

I leave the door unlocked.

I leave the lights on.