Please keep in mind that this post is more than 3 years old. Opinions change. Tastes change. Everything changes. I may still agree with or like this, or I may not. But everything is kept up here for archival purposes.
miasma, junk piles, and green skies / September 10, 2004
I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write. I can’t think of anything to write.
I think I mentioned before, I had a english comp professor in college who had us keep daily journals. And if you honestly couldn’t think of anything to write… you repeatedly wrote I can’t think of anything to write.
Right now… I feel the need to expel some mental miasma. Like a sneeze you can feel coming. You prepare yourself… stop… deep breath… tense your shoulders so as not to blow yourself over… wait… your nose is tingling… here it comes… almost there…
I feel like I need to write to get rid of something. Trouble is… I am kinda tired. This puts me in a very mellow mood. And I can’t write worth a shit when I’m mellow.
This whole day has been fucked up. All I’ve had are snacks all day, and no real meals. It’s now almost 11 PM, and I have no desire to eat dinner, which would be my first real meal of the day. Didn’t get much work done either. Lots of little prep shit for the coming deluge. But nothing measurable.
Well… I did get stuff back up on my walls, this evening. My apartment was recently gutted for renovations, and I’ve slowly been getting it back into a livable state. I have two small problems left. Well, two small piles that are problems. Stuff I don’t want. There’s a stack of comic books and a stack of picture frames. Both still in good condition. Not that they interest me in the least. The comics I’ve had some recommendations on… donate them to a library or hospital or such. i looked up the donations page at the Children’s Hospital, but as expected, they’re mostly concerned about money. And I can’t bring myself to call someone whose life is dedicated to helping to ease the suffering of children, and asking them if they want the comic books that are too boring even for me. *breath* The picture frames leave me in more of a quandary. Short of a garage sale, how do you get rid of picture frames that you don’t want? I won’t throw them away. I’d be satisfied giving them away… but how does one advertise picture frames of varying sizes, materials, shapes, and colors? I’m thinking maybe I should come up with an art project utilizing them, and give them to people as presents.
Wait.. I smell girls outside…
I think that’s what girls smell like. I don’t know. It seems like so long since I’ve left my apartment.
Is the sky still green out there?