Writing

My writing hasn't felt very solid lately. That's the word I was looking for. Solid. They don't feel like they have all the pieces I want in them, they don't feel finished. They feel like you could take some and add some and then it would easily not be mine at all. I am writing something very transparent and vague, my pieces are meek, shruggling and excusing themselves on the page, waiting for you to judge them so they have some meaning, because my writing is requiring and shrinking for your judgment.
Okay, so here's the thing I am not telling Kevin right now. I just told him; this and that, I hate my writing, I'm going to burn my zine la la la and he kind of asks why even though he knows I'm just being dramatic.
I'm not telling him I am ashamed of not being marketable.
Kevin is drawing maps right now. I am blogging. We are listening to Tool. It's the new one. I am drinking wine. Kevin is not drinking wine.
"Would you like me to put some water on?"
shrugs, "if you want. I'd like some. I don't want you to stress yourself out about it."
"why would I stress myself out?"
shakes head. inaudible.
"What's that?"
"Just making sure you want it."
"I just wanted to know if you wanted some.."
"Just didn't want you to be that concerened about my well being. It's been awhile since I've drewn, draw. Since I've drawn."
I put on the water. My tea kettle is yellow. I got it last year for my birthday. 22. I always keep it clean. Sometimes, when I do to other people houses and see dirty tea kettles I feel disgusted. Burned tea kettles, oily tea kettles from being next to frying bacon. A real tea drinker has a spotless kettle.
What I really want to know how to do is write. I want to be able to write. Write well. Writers are magic.
Just about anyone can see something happen. They can watch a car wreck with the same passion as watching a basketball game, they can make love the way they would stand in line at the grocery store. But a writer, aa damn good story teller like Lia or my Dad (who, like Homer, never writes their damn stories down) makes that fucking experience real. And I am not that person. I get lost in the WORDS. The damn words. I trip up on them like a spider in its own web. And then I get even more tangled when go back and edit that shit.
What I'm trying to say is, I can't hash it all, but I don't know what to do exactly... writing is me. It's not just what I've defined myself around, it's the thing that forgoes me from food and water. It's the thing that takes me hours away from this world.
Writing. What the hell.