The write to think not quite right

When I can't write I think of my third Uncle who told me I was too fat to write. I think of my drunk Dad and Rockaway. I think of Jackson Pollack. I think, 'Should I move this old lamp or throw it away?" I think about random acts of nonsense, like my career. I take out the garbage, throw a load in, and wash the dishes from the night before. I should really learn to cook, I think. I run to the market to get the quarters to start the next load, wine I think, wine is fine I think. I take the cat out, I bring her back in. I chain-smoke. Should I be typing or handwriting? I need to call my Grandma. I need to sew the buttons back. I need to move home, finish school. Just write. Relax I think, but I have stuff to do and hours to waste. Later, I think.