Nothing to Write About

Daily writing for me represents a time when I can reflect on what’s going in my life and to sit with those thoughts during some quiet time in my day. I don’t have anything specific to share, so there’s really nothing to write about. However, I can describe the stillness at this time in my neighborhood. It’s usually full of energy with people moving around and cars passing by, people talking as they walk together, and sometimes some renovation or construction going on – and there’s the occasional siren.
No, today this writing time is just for me and my thoughts: what I did last night, what I’ll be doing today, and where my life is heading – it’s gone in so many directions lately.
So I’m looking forward to doing this more often. I intended to write more, but I got sidetracked trying to get more information about the gathering I played at last night. It was an event marking the progress in making the August Wilson home a historical site. I was part of a production that consisted of monologues where actors became the voices of Hill district residents recalling the rich and controversial history of a legendary Pittsburgh neighborhood. A jazz quartet played musical interludes and my djembe drumming provided the rhythms for the “juba dance” that closed the show.

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