inane
2007-11-10 2:32 a.m.

oh, boo. this house is freezing. in 6 months time i won't be able to believe how cold i am right now.

florida is fucking puzzling.

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but you have to come back to it eventually. you can't stop. what if i don't have anyone to push me? everyone has their own struggle. i know i am a writer. it's hard to accept this. there is no romance in it anymore.

sometimes i think, i am alone and being a writer suits me. other times i think, i am a writer and it forces me to lead a life ultimately alone. i don't care. i am a writer, i am alone. maybe they are related, or maybe they are just two traits, freckles and thin wrists.

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i gave up writing after a whole week of

"daniel, we are going to work."
"yes we are, liz."
"we are going to work for two hours."
two hours later.
"i got nothing done, daniel."

no i do not like that feeling. i feel there's some arrested developement quote like, if you don't try, you don't fail.

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sunday i want to have something to share with my roommates. i could read them some nonsense? they would prefer a story, i'm sure.

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you want to hear about UTIs? probably not.

i had these tests yearly, fifth to eight grade. a catheder and an IV, pump in the copper and watch it go through me as i sat on a narrow, concave plastic table and tried not to think of the copper going through me and out my urethra.

i named my organs and my ureters.

anyway, it got to the point where i would start to bug out a bit in the weeks preceding the tests. i can't remember anything except standing in the giant main room of johns hopkins and wearing cateye sunglasses with blue frames to hide the fact that i was crying hysterically and did not want the public to know.

why were we in that giant room? there were so many things going on. i had those sunglasses and a walkman.

earlier that summer i wore the sunglasses as a do-wop girl in a drama camp production of "little shop of horrors"

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it's an easy out to blame that entire period in my life for my current position. i don't like doing it. but i do think it, how do i say, enlightens.

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wylie rang the doorbell while i was typing. he laughed at my mummy-like appearance. well then why don't you buy me a new circulation system?

or a parka.

i made brownies with marshmallows on top (not as thrilling as you'd think). inane inane inane inane.

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dear boyfriend of the future,

please forgive my lapses into the inane. perhaps you find them charming. hopefully you gently pressure me to become interesting. and to write. interesting things, preferably.

also can you put the seat down? k thanks bye