in which we have our feet up:
I write a lot. I write so much. I write so fucking much it's ridiculous that none of it is any good, "good" being defined as "marketable" with "marketable" being defined as "money-making."
Four days unemployed and I'm going insane even while paralyzed with fear. You'd think I'd do the right thing and harness all this nervous energy into productive things like digging up freelance work or publishing a book or getting to work on all the projects I've been dying to do for the longest time but no, here I am writing on Livejournal and not-eating, believing that maybe if I buy a pack of index cards for my ideas they will all magically materialize.
Can not even begin to describe the state of my heart nowadays, and we who grew up writing in our Livejournals, don't we know that if you can't describe it1; it is incomprehensible, it may as well not exist
________________
1 blog post, blurry picture, esoterica, quiz results
Four days unemployed and I'm going insane even while paralyzed with fear. You'd think I'd do the right thing and harness all this nervous energy into productive things like digging up freelance work or publishing a book or getting to work on all the projects I've been dying to do for the longest time but no, here I am writing on Livejournal and not-eating, believing that maybe if I buy a pack of index cards for my ideas they will all magically materialize.
Can not even begin to describe the state of my heart nowadays, and we who grew up writing in our Livejournals, don't we know that if you can't describe it1; it is incomprehensible, it may as well not exist
________________
1 blog post, blurry picture, esoterica, quiz results