Dog Walks, Weed And The Art Of Writing
A short exploration of my mind and suspicion of being mentally ill.
Almost every evening I take the dog for a short walk. I must admit that walking on the same streets, checking the same windows and pubs is a monotonous endeavour.
The dog needs to be walked and I need to be entertained. I smoke a spliff on these walks, weed makes the walks more enjoyable. When THC hits my brain I imagine different stories. Sometimes I am a spy or a killer. Sometimes I am a detective investigating a murder. The stories flow from one to another and I change from a hero to a villain.
I never thought that one day I will be writing but the stories always played in my head. I used to think that I am schizophrenic and the stories in my mind are my split personality at play. Who knows, maybe I have some mental disadvantages but I like my stories.
Writing is an art. Every art requires hard work, without it, art is a hobby. Most writers are way better than I am, most of them have an educational background or a talent( shout out to Hogan Torah) but it doesn't mean that I can’t do what I like.
I used to worry that the stories I think about would disappear if I don’t write them down but recently I’ve noticed that they don’t go away completely, they stay hidden and when I sit down to write and spend a bit more time doing it, the stories come back.
I wrote a short story about the characters from my imagination, I called it Rascals. Rebels and outcasts live in my imagination, you are more than welcome to read it.
