i'm scrambling for something to post....i miss the months when i posted every 3 days, because i had something to say. there is a haiku-stanza'ed poem on my refrigerator, but i did not compose it so i would feel guilty publishing it. i haven't written anything of note lately. this upsets me. i've been having weird dreams lately. and a stream-of-consciousness just doesn't seem right.
i could write about intramural softball. or about my impending birthday. or about the letters i've stopped sending, partly because i know they won't be received and partly because so much has changed so fast. i could write about the weather, or the books i'm not reading, or the water spot in my ceiling that has only grown since the maintenance guy came to fix it. i could write about public transportation or polyamory or my failing research project. i could write about those people who, much to your dismay, present themselves so much better than it seems like they should. and yet, none of this inspires more than a line.
i could, perhaps, write about the piece of paper taped to my wall which reads, "TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME." but i can't remember if i already have, or if there's any more to say about it than that.
or i could write, once again, about the times when words are simply inappropriate.
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