Jamal Lyon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heavythecrown) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cycleofages2016-11-20 03:14 am
heavythecrown) wrote in cycleofages2016-11-20 03:14 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Jamal Lyon, OTA
What: Trying to get out of his creative rut??
Where: Rec room
When: Nov 20, late morning
Warning: Mention of violence.
After spending more time that could be reasonable in his room, Jamal decides that the same scenery day after day isn't good for his creative processes. So despite the fact that he's still more of the opinion that he wants to avoid encounters -- which probably would have been good for him anyway -- he made his way down to rec area. He knew there were different areas for activities but he was drawn to the comfy sofas for now.
Setting against the the arm of one, he pulls the pencil from where he'd stored it behind his ear, the tablet that had been in his other hand now on his lap. Honestly, there wasn't much more here to give him a spark of inspiration than there had been in his room. He really should look into trying to get his hands on a keyboard again.
He shook his head, putting pencil to paper and furrowing his brow when not a single word came and the music that his entire life had been a constant companion and soundtrack to the world was silenced --had been since he'd been shot at an awards show. Maybe he'd lost his music in all that had changed.
What: Trying to get out of his creative rut??
Where: Rec room
When: Nov 20, late morning
Warning: Mention of violence.
After spending more time that could be reasonable in his room, Jamal decides that the same scenery day after day isn't good for his creative processes. So despite the fact that he's still more of the opinion that he wants to avoid encounters -- which probably would have been good for him anyway -- he made his way down to rec area. He knew there were different areas for activities but he was drawn to the comfy sofas for now.
Setting against the the arm of one, he pulls the pencil from where he'd stored it behind his ear, the tablet that had been in his other hand now on his lap. Honestly, there wasn't much more here to give him a spark of inspiration than there had been in his room. He really should look into trying to get his hands on a keyboard again.
He shook his head, putting pencil to paper and furrowing his brow when not a single word came and the music that his entire life had been a constant companion and soundtrack to the world was silenced --had been since he'd been shot at an awards show. Maybe he'd lost his music in all that had changed.
no subject
"Why do you say it didn't go well though?"
no subject