Junk Food

Thursday, June 30, 2016


Please be a ghost if you aren't I couldn't see you. What do I want to say? I don't think this makes any sense and I'm kind of in a block. Mostly what I do when I'm blocked like this is drink. Oops. Then I play guitar for a while until I get out whatever feelings I didn't want to feel are out. Check. Oops. Then, finally I sit down and am like, crack crack knuckles, lets get to clackin!

Then of course I still don't write anything good.


I'm doomed.

So speaking of doom I have wanted to jump on this post-apocalyptic wagon for a seriously long time and I've had a super secret not-so-secret story brewing for a hell of a long time that I am dying to write. But now I have this fucking witch story in my way and I am stuck on it. I love the witch story, don't get me wrong. I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of writing it, workshopping it, I'm tired of thinking about it. I think I may have over done it and basically ruined a major part of it by tinkering too much. So now. I'm stuck.

Then there is this completely alluring Mars story that I am dy-dy-dy-ying to tell everyone on Earth at once and it is so terribly disorganized that I am afraid it will become the same mess that the witch story did if I do anything to it. ART AND FEAR BABY. SHIT IS REAL.

Then I guess I need to collect myself, fuck being professional, fuck being polite, fuck fuck fuck it all and all the propriety. I want to scream, foaming, and I want to be a fucking animal. I want to jump up and down and slam my fists on the roofs of cars. I want to drink and dive off a ship into the ocean. I want to fly high the black sails of piracy and never come back.

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