Five Minutes a Day. muc/02092014

I was told, you start a blog, you pursue the blog. If you feel like taking a break, you tell this to people. (This is, if people read your blog.) Obviously, you tell them on the blog. I didn’t. Didn’t pursue, didn’t tell. Don’t like rules. Don’t like pressure. Not good at pursuing things in general. Am I really?


Then, out of a sudden, months later, today, to be precise, I felt like going back to the blog. Back to Five Minutes a Day. Of course today I think, this is a feeling that won’t vanish. I will feel like pursuing the blog tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the day after that. This I think even though I know about feelings vanishing very well.


Back to Five Minutes a Day. On a day when nothing special happened, and I have not a single idea why I feel like going back. Or writing in English. But then, I was told, nobody is reading this anyway after I vanished, so who cares.


A few days ago in a museum’s shop I discovered the book “Working on my New Novel” which contained nothing but tweets like “For those wondering, I am still working on my novel.” or “I’m working on my novel again, and it feels good, you guys. I love my mind.“ Who the hell would write or read or even buy this, I thought. Noting this just so I wouldn’t note that I don’t know how to finish this novel I started. Well, finish. There are still like two hundred pages to be written. (Five Minutes over. It was fun.)