Everything in its right place.
"Turn on, tune in, drop out." Timothy Leary.
Significant time has elapsed since I last wrote. I felt like taking it to task. It has always irked me that I can't write in a free flowing stream of consciousness. I lack that skill. I labour; attach, delete, append, amend, rephrase, rehash.
I still like to read that last article. I like its jaded honesty. Its 'it's going to be fine' attitude. Since then things have changed. I've grown. Uni finished. Made great friends. Lost some. Got 'tight' countless times. Got jobs. Lost them. I've been better. I'll be better.
Significant time has elapsed since I last wrote. I felt like taking it to task. It has always irked me that I can't write in a free flowing stream of consciousness. I lack that skill. I labour; attach, delete, append, amend, rephrase, rehash.
I still like to read that last article. I like its jaded honesty. Its 'it's going to be fine' attitude. Since then things have changed. I've grown. Uni finished. Made great friends. Lost some. Got 'tight' countless times. Got jobs. Lost them. I've been better. I'll be better.
"Don't think twice, it's all right." Bob Dylan.
That was that. I passed some exams, and failed others. My lack of enthusiasm elucidated by the process. My training contract ended, working relationships cut. There are no friends in business. Ugh, the clichés still claw, grasp, and stick to my prose. Black tar on a sullen beach. Metaphors are assholes to come bye; the good ones jealously guarded by inspiration. Find the ones of worth.
That was that. I passed some exams, and failed others. My lack of enthusiasm elucidated by the process. My training contract ended, working relationships cut. There are no friends in business. Ugh, the clichés still claw, grasp, and stick to my prose. Black tar on a sullen beach. Metaphors are assholes to come bye; the good ones jealously guarded by inspiration. Find the ones of worth.
"Love's Labour's Lost," William Shakespeare.
Labour moved him closer to the City. A further unknown undercurrent drew him into the glinting expanse. Drawn by cultural osmosis? He immagined how he would stalk it. His charm would be tested. Reality is a resolute whore... The truth; he was not nearly as predatory as his namesake. In truth it was a more lambasted, self effacing affair. Too much wasted on keeping up appearances. Worth every pound, worth no thing. Some. A few conquests, but many debasements. A slew of if onlys and what ifs. The last always the hardest.
"Go on. Lets see her." said the wounded one.
"Hang on..." came the reply, whilst trawling through portraits continued. A true insight in to her being was needed. There was none.
"She is gorgeous, very middle class." concluded the wounded one.
The chinoise-sunrise has never felt so distant.
"Buy the ticket, take the ride," Hunter S.Thompson.
Upbeat. Ever the optimist, always the fool. A tough number of days in self enforced limbo. I should really research. I need to put in the hours. I'm not getting trapped. It will work out. Work.
I end the night in a daze. A wilful dismissal of the last day. Deadened proprioceptors loosing the fight. Moribund limbs ordered to march. To bed.
Mind awash with what ifs, and laissez-faires. Sleep.
I end the night in a daze. A wilful dismissal of the last day. Deadened proprioceptors loosing the fight. Moribund limbs ordered to march. To bed.
Mind awash with what ifs, and laissez-faires. Sleep.
"Write drunk; edit sober." Ernest Hemingway.
A lot of editing need.
