(no subject)
i could never be a writer.
reading your stuff in front of thousands, secretely ten, people?
having to explain them what you meant?
wasting your sunday afternoons?
no thanks.
someone else can be the next neruda.
i'll pass, thank you very much.
work was intolerable today.
first of all, it was hot.
and you know how much i love heat.
then, i ate lunch for once and it made me sleepy.
i reallly wanted to take a nap.
just two more weeks.
thank god.
i'm reading bukowski. he's cool.
just like me.
people say i complain a lot.
i wonder if this is true.
reading your stuff in front of thousands, secretely ten, people?
having to explain them what you meant?
wasting your sunday afternoons?
no thanks.
someone else can be the next neruda.
i'll pass, thank you very much.
work was intolerable today.
first of all, it was hot.
and you know how much i love heat.
then, i ate lunch for once and it made me sleepy.
i reallly wanted to take a nap.
just two more weeks.
thank god.
i'm reading bukowski. he's cool.
just like me.
people say i complain a lot.
i wonder if this is true.