with a pen, paper, and guitar.

it's finally starting to cool off, though now my apartment is filled with tiny bugs that have slipped through the screen to flirt with my lights and brush my neck and ankles as they flit. and i jump as they startle me. it's still too warm, too sticky. the humidity has filled my head and coherency seems near impossible... and yet i strive for it because i have to. i want to fall into bed and hear rain and not think about writing--not think about anything.

i've been watching out for patterns again. the way i walk my life. the way i want. i don't know if i see them, i don't know if they're there. still, at least i look.

i wonder what it would be like to be able to simply stop. stop everything and slowly start again. hide away on a mountain with out work or money or drugs or distractions. to take away every stress and see what life would be. it's beyond wishful thinking. not that i want to be thoreau. just that i'd like to be me. again. for once. and it seems to be a lot to ask.

(no subject)

i quit for tonight. and i just sent off an email saying as much.
i give my fate up to something other than myself, such as it is.
at least for tonight.

hmm

Your True Nature by llScorpiusll
Username
The quality that most appeals to you:	Creativity
In a survival situation, you:	Play dead
Your hidden talent is:	Resourcefulness
Your gift is:	Sexual prowess
In groups, you:	Are the center of attention
Your best quality is:	Your sense of humour
Your weakness is:	Your jealous nature
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